Shiva
by Andrea Weiling
Summary: Shiva is the Hindu God of Destruction. Well, it's finally finished. "Dissonance" rewritten.
1. The Tree

Ch.1: The Tree  
  
Behind me, the door slid shut, and I looked up to see the replica of something of a   
forest. I could feel that people had been here not very long before; auras remained   
lingering even hours after a person had physically been here, especially if the person had   
gone through some sort of strong emotion or revelation. But these were irreverent at the   
moment; for me, I was here for one purpose, and that was to see my brother.  
  
In actuality, my brother could not be seen. If he had been able to be seen, no   
doubt Gareas would have skipped all classes to come here and talk with him. My brother had   
no physical form, had no voice - it was the artificial trees and the pure air that flowed up  
through artificially manmade grass that held him, lingering like a recent memory. This had  
been our sacred place, a place where no one could touch us. The other students didn't come  
near here when we were here - they knew to stay away when we had our moments. The trees   
and the grass were so real, but they were fake, made out of materials not native to any   
plant. How fitting I would find such a place to hide away, like a mask.  
  
For now, I would stay here. My brother would understand, he would know what I was   
going through. He must have felt the same, the whispers, the songs that haunted dreams and   
laughed away just as I woke up. My brother must have sat in the very same spot at the roots  
of the tree, and pondered what he had heard. He would have been angry, just like I was   
now.  
  
"Am I a traitor?", I heard myself say. "Did you go through the same, brother?"  
  
My brother had no choice when my parents died; we were rich, but we were young, and   
therefore didn't have any close-blooded relatives to become our guardians. The first few   
weeks I could remember being comforted by his thoughts and mindless crooning of old   
lullabies he claimed our mother used to sing to him. I couldn't remember, though, and after  
a while at G.O.A., neither could he. For two months we spent our time in the linoleum   
halls of the Training Station, and wondered what was in store for us. Relatives from every   
inch of the known world came flying to us, asking for a part of the will, asking in their   
false tones to take care of us. My brother was fourteen, and he rejected every letter; our   
parents' will was ours, and he was not about to share it. Our grandparents from both sides   
had inherited the money to our accounts, and that only grew in value when our father became   
an almost miracle doctor. "The hands of God", one woman expressed when she walked out of   
the office. It was the only memory I still had of what I once considered my home, somewhere  
else, far away on Zion.  
  
We were not colony-born, my brother and I. Our roots reached deep into Zion, and my  
father only moved to the colonies once he heard they needed more help up there than down   
on the home planet. So that was where I grew up; amidst the stars, and grew to love them.  
  
When my brother decided to become a pilot, the last blood relative of ours released   
his temporary keep on us, and dedicated his will to include everything he had to us. He   
died three years later to a shuttle accident from one colony to another, trying to convince   
teenagers to come to G.O.A., to fight the Victims.  
  
And the Victims, of course, were the root source of my anger.  
  
I wished I could ask my brother this question: what are the Victims? Certainly I   
knew that some scientist on Zion would want to study them, but we couldn't allow any Victim   
on Zion or any space station to be studied; government claimed they were dangerous. Another  
question for my brother Ernest: did you hear them too? The songs they sing? Haunting,   
eerie, beautiful, but they sing those songs like something called a... 'whale'? Is that   
what they called it on the Old Planet? We heard a clip of the gentle beasts once, on a   
historical study of the Old Planet, Earth. The name was forgotten now; the Victims purged   
it into pieces before the survivors of the human races' eyes.  
  
"They call to me, brother. They tell me they are sorry, sorry for killing, for   
hurting, sorry for everything they have done to us. They don't understand, brother, about   
death; they think their purpose in life is to beautify."  
  
The Victims don't talk - or rather sing - in voices. They don't quite whisper, they  
don't quite harmonize, but they have the same lilting rhythms. They use colors and music.   
They create movies out of these simple elements and creep into my dreams at night, flying   
with their music. Dare I say they were beautiful? They only wanted to make Zion like their  
planet, and I saw it in the images they showed to me: grass like Zion, trees in strange   
shapes but still trees, wildlife that could not fly but walked on the ground, like deer and   
wolves and squirrels, like us. They were delighted when they found I could hear them. They  
said they could feel my brother still in the Ingrid, and that he spoke of me fondly.  
  
It must have been the typical little brother/big brother thinking. I thought my   
brother was invincible, like the knights in the happy fairy tales. I never stopped to think  
that my brother was more vulnerable than any of the other pilots, just as I am, and still   
are. Our abilities put us aside; it makes us stronger, and weakens us faster.  
  
"Do you hate me now, brother?", I ask to the rustling tree. The wind rustling it   
comes out of vents, of course, underneath the grass and to both sides of the building. The   
tree has two branches, and I remembered my brother and I used to sit there, and talk about   
our annoying relatives. He came to visit me daily, knowing I would spend the whole day here  
or in the shrunken library. He never missed a day, not in the three years of training, nor  
the two years he was a pilot. Once I fell asleep in the branches waiting for him after a   
battle, and was woken by his tired, but happy face to see I had actually stayed up. "I'm   
here", he said, and held me. I could not begin to explain my relief he was still alive.  
  
My brother was usually in studies all day. When he first became a candidate, he   
tried to put me apart from the schoolwork, but he found nothing else to talk about. That   
was one of the reasons I sprang to the top of the candidate chart in so little time; I had   
already learned the curriculum, knew what tests they would be performing, and how to use a   
Pro-Ing from my brother. Some called that cheating, but Instructor Azuma just described it   
calmly as 'sibling love'. All other time I spent in the little cubicle they shouldn't have   
called a library - it had a few computers on a desk and only two shelves of what were   
'books', but were actually digitalized screens that flipped pages with the touch of the   
button on the right. These weren't as heavy as books, but they couldn't be checked out.   
Furthermore, the computers were the only ones available for free use in the school, and a   
person couldn't use them without having "I love so-and-so" and "So-and-so is an idiot"   
popping up on your screen every ten seconds (students learned to make pop-up commercials, so  
to speak).  
  
I did not know what my brother heard when he went out in Reneighd Klein and   
destroyed the Victims. I knew he was not the best pilot, nor was he the most motivated;   
some people called him downright cowardly. Those were the people who didn't know his   
ability, though, and didn't respect him for what he could do.  
  
The teachers graduated him two years early, and graduated me three years early. My   
brother said that they wanted us to die quicker, so they deployed us as fast as they could.   
"They have their own biased thinking, Erts", he said in his light voice. "They think we're  
demons or something. But we're not. Isn't Gareas proof of that?"  
  
It was true. Gareas hadn't thought twice about opening up to my brother or me. He   
tried so hard, though, to pull Ernest out of his little hole and into the sunlight. I knew   
he could still see my brother in me, and he only showed it more when he looked at me for a   
moment, then turned away. The others were always uncomfortable with that afterwards, as if   
I knew something they didn't.  
  
I did know something they didn't. How could we be destroying something that showed   
so much beauty? They came from the sky - dare I say they were angelic in all but physical   
appearance? We could not speak, we could not talk, and therefore we killed each other.   
Only I could hear them, hear they cry when one was destroyed, hear one whimper when it got   
hurt. I never heard any happiness from them; they only sang sad songs, knowing that they   
were going to die soon.  
  
"I hardly know if I'm sane, brother. Tell me that I'm not crazy yet, brother."  
  
I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes. The others wouldn't come here looking  
for me, pretending to not remember that I was here - they knew. I knew all of them, the   
other Goddess pilots, from my brother. He described them perfectly, and showed me when we   
clasped hands together, how they acted that day: Gareas brash and loud, Rio protesting at   
the dinner table, Yuu silent except for the odd comment, and Teela absent, as usual. The   
others respected my brother, almost feared them, except for Gareas. I almost imagined them   
to slap me away and scream "Where is Ernest? You are not Ernest! Bring him back!" and   
push me outside, into clear space.  
  
If I leaned back hard enough, I could almost imagine my brother was there, his arms   
around my shoulders, and our thoughts going back and forth with fevered anxiety. Another   
day brought another battle, after all, and I knew my brother to know he could get hurt   
easily from all the 'static' he picked up from the Victims, the spectators, and the   
repairers on the ship. Sometimes my brother only stayed ten minutes before he was called   
back to review the battle and go on another sortie. Sometimes my brother had time to spare,  
and talked for half an hour or more before he was called back. It wasn't hard to accept   
he was dead when I could still feel him around: in the tree, in the clothes I wore (they   
didn't have time to cut down Ernest's uniform so I had to wear his, which was oversized),   
and when I put my hand to lean against Reneighd Klein. The others could sense him around.   
Of course, that didn't exactly seem to bother anyone but Gareas.  
  
I couldn't bear to call them by their names. 'Elidd-san' was what I called Gareas,   
and for the others as well. What would they understand? Even Gareas never completely   
understood my brother and the complexity of being a telepath.  
  
I would wait for them to find me. But for a little while, I would spend time with   
my brother.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \   
  
Author's notes:  
  
*sighs* Yes, I know. Erts and Ernest did not seem particularly close, as a brother  
and his little brother should be, right? Could it be said I wanted it to be a little   
different? As for timing...I guess I can't really say that this is right after Ernest's   
funeral or anything. But, this just might be AU - that's up to me. Now, I have to finish  
a history assignment that I sorely neglected for writing this thing...  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	2. Brother, Brother

Ch.2: My Dear Friend  
  
Leena's voice came over the revolving comm. links, "We've got a Type-D and possibly   
an F a little ways from colony H. You should make yourselves comfortable since they won't   
be in range for a little while; be on the alert though. We can't spot out the little   
tweezer spy guys they're starting to send."  
  
I flinched. Last time, the Victims had sent a few of a not-quite-Victim type   
creature in front to scout out the lay of the land. It was not a happy fight, since   
apparently the arrow-shaped creature could dive into any substance and eat it away like   
acid - Rio tried to catch it with Tellia Kallisto's fingers and it ate it away like it was   
nothing. It was not a pretty sight: Rio was screaming and I could literally feel every head  
(including Victim heads) turn at my nice, long, verbal substitute for the term "shut up".  
  
And of course, there was Erts, who jumped at every other squeak a Victim made at him  
and flinched every time a voice came over the comm. I had pretty much tried to look the   
other way when he made a mistake in battle, and even when he narrowly managed to save me by   
plucking another tweezer-creature from my hands before it started at my arms, I gave him a   
'look' when I came out that clearly told I wasn't pleased he tried to save my life. He   
wasn't Ernest, and I didn't expect him to be.  
  
If I had looked a little closer, I might have realized I wasn't getting along with   
Erts at all. I was acting like other people did to him. I was acting the way I had first   
acted around Ernest: scared of him touching me, but fascinated about his inborn ability. I   
was treating him...different. The way I knew Ernest hated to be treated.  
  
It was the kind of feeling, if I had known, that makes you feel outside, even though  
people are trying to get you inside, where it's warm and happy. It's an uncomfortable   
feeling, because you know everyone's looking at you and asking you to come in, but you know   
you can't step past the threshold because someone else is there. Ernest is still there,   
just the memory, but that memory's enough to stop Erts from entering any door.  
  
I never truly asked just what the brothers' relationship was. I knew it was deep, I  
knew Ernest took a shuttle back to G.O.A. every other second of the day not devoted to   
lessons and skirmishes and Goddesses to see his brother. I knew they were close, by the way  
Ernest talked with such definite LOVE about his brother. It was sweet. It was touching.   
It made me sick, but made me feel a little happy inside knowing that Ernest had such a   
person to talk to when I couldn't understand. From what I heard, Erts had more potential   
than his brother; his EX rates went off the charts; he could "study", or what the Old Planet  
called "fencing", better than anyone in the academy (believe me, I know, because I tried to  
fence with him and lost miserably); he learned his studies quicker and was the youngest Top  
Candidate in the history of G.O.A. Ernest helped, from what I heard. When Ernest couldn't  
be there in person, I knew Erts was listening to his brother mentally.   
  
I also knew where they went when they wanted to be alone - it was the circular room   
with some fake trees and some nice breeze blowing the leaves into vents to be stuck back on   
later on the same trees (the gardeners cheated - no tree could grow that many leaves   
overnight). They had a little grove on the side where the designated "couples" of G.O.A.   
liked to kiss and make out, but apparently Ernest and Erts didn't care if their aura was   
still hanging around. When they entered that grove, they didn't like to come out. They   
didn't talk; they thought back and forth. Nobody entered the grove while they were there;   
it was sacred while they were there, a holy haven that they could only enter. You could   
almost say I envied Erts, just a teeny weeny bit, because he could talk to his brother so...  
fluidly. Like music. Ernest's music.   
  
Ernest didn't settle for the plain violins and pianos. He went wildly through   
ocarinas and piccolos, through the deep cellos and the mysterious oboes, then trilled with   
the old, very ancient harpsicords and clavicords and celestes. Even before we became the   
friends we later were, I could pick up shreds of those songs without words but deserved to   
have a vocalist to them. It was as if they had a soul, like Ernest, only very carefully  
hidden. Guarded, almost, like a covetous jewel.   
  
Four people shared a room back then (it's been cut down to three because G.O.A.   
built an East hospital wing two years ago and the North wing was now open to settlement;   
entrance exams are harder to pass, so there are less Candidates): Yu, Rioroute, Ernest and   
me. Two beds to each wall; Rioroute and I hit it off from the first as two really   
boisterous boys who wrestled and chatted while we fought. Yu had his sister, who he spent   
most of his time working with, and Ernest was very, very quiet. Too quiet.  
  
Do you know that feeling when you see a quiet person and you just know there's a   
loud person inside who's ready to talk to you? Ernest wasn't that way. You couldn't tell   
whether he was shy or he was angry or when he was smiling. He just was silent. You just   
couldn't read any emotion off of him; it was like he was deaf and blind and senseless to the  
world. It didn't need him, and he didn't need it. Erts was not quite the same; he   
practically grew up in G.O.A., so he knew all the staff, all the workers, and they all knew   
him. He wasn't open, but he wasn't closed either.  
  
And then there was the day we truly met, Ernest and I. Before that Ernest was even   
quieter than Yu, if at all possible. Yu came with us, even though I knew he didn't like us   
talking and laughing down the hall every time we stepped out the door. Ernest...he was   
always gone. The only time he was ever in the room was when he was sleeping - later I   
wondered why I never heard the shower go off in the morning, and found he showered in the   
hospital wing instead. That was when I started to follow Ernest.   
  
Ernest didn't eat with us - he ate with another, smaller, not-yet-Candidate material  
boy who looked, talked, acted like Ernest. He was Erts.  
  
Ernest didn't use pencil to take notes - he pressed his palm to the computer screen   
and the computer conferred the thoughts he was sending into clips. He could replay any   
teacher's lecture at any given time. He was practically part of the security, just inside   
the classrooms.  
  
And most of all, Ernest didn't hang out with us. Why? I didn't know. I had to   
ask. I was no curious cat, but he was no willing mouse, either.  
  
So I took him by force. "Why should I go to class? There's still three minutes   
left?", he said softly. I almost didn't hear him, but instead I grabbed his wrist and   
skidded down the hall. When we arrived at the classroom, we were both panting, but when I   
asked him why, he answered, "Because your thoughts are so vivid."  
  
I didn't take my hand away. Instead, I led him into class, and his hand held mine   
back as if I were the last golden thread of light or something. Needless to say, he became   
the closest friend anyone could want. I was his friend, and he was happy about it. Ernest   
wasn't the kind of person to show happiness in leaps and bounds; he showed it through his   
eyes, soft, hesitant, but so accepting. He was the most open person I knew.   
  
"Target in range", came Tune's soft voice over the comm. I could see Ernest/Erts in  
the cockpit of Reneighd Klein, getting ready to battle, and their faces seemed to match up   
in my memory, determined in their own ways to come out alive. If I concentrated enough, I   
could almost feel Ernest's mind there in Reneighd Klein, soft, pulsing, but very alive. If   
I closed my eyes I could see him, his face in a softened look of trust.  
  
A bad idea. Never close your eyes during a battle. Why? Because you might get   
knocked out.   
  
And that was precisely what happened.  
  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \   
  
Author's note:  
  
Yes, of course. This is the fic "Dissonance" rewritten. I hated that fic (yeah, I  
know, it's my own work, but I still hate it), so I somewhat rewrote it. It doesn't   
center around music like "Dissonance" did. Ah, that's all. Next chapter will be nice and  
Ertsy. And I do hope that you realized this is Gareas talking.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	3. Close to You

Ch.3: Close To You  
  
Involuntarily I gave a little shiver. Something wasn't right. The Victims were...  
happy? Satisfied? Content? I had never heard such a happy, warmly anticipated note in the  
ir songs before - were they waiting for something? They were excited, their thoughts in   
brilliant hues of red and sparkling yellow, their songs rising together in a strange,   
twisted sort of harmony as they blended their thoughts together in my head. However, they   
paid less attention to me than to something, or someone else. Perhaps they were targeting   
G.O.A.? It was certainly possible they figured out all of their opponents launched from the  
same ship every time. However, I could feel that was not correct; they were after a   
specific SOMEONE, or SOMETHING, and G.O.A. seemed too large to be the center of their   
thoughts.  
  
An especially trilling note seemed to block my senses for a moment. I shook my mind  
clear and shoved whatever they were sending to me to the back of my mind. To my right I   
could see Eeva Leena completely dazed and out of it. Suddenly my mind jolted. Were they   
after Eeva Leena? After Gareas?  
  
I reached out to him frantically, but found my way blocked by singing, grating on my  
nerves. I forced myself to concentrate - and by sheer luck, found myself in the very core   
of Gareas' mind. I looked around. What visions were they feeding him? They obviously were  
purposefully distracting him. To take the Eeva Leena out of commission forever? Was that   
even possible?  
  
It was not hard to see what they were showing him. Around me were pictures of   
Ernest, some random, hazy thoughts as if Gareas was partway drunk, and then the soft   
underlining thoughts of "Why isn't Ernest here now? Because of me" and "I should have been   
there to save him". And then, to my amazement, he turned his mind to face me, and I even   
think he saw me or my brother in Reneighd Klein before I was ripped back into the Goddess.   
Trying to control a throbbing headache from staying in someone's core mind for more than   
five minutes, I manage to clear the stars from my vision and pay heed to Rioroute's startled  
cries.  
  
"Luhma - Reneighd Klein! Get your butt moving! Do you copy, Reneighd Klein? Luhma  
Klein! Erts, are you alright ?" He sounded panicky, and I could feel Tune's voice over   
the comm. link as well. Her words were more effective than Rioroute's; she spoke softly,   
reassuringly, and I felt my head stop spinning 360 and saw to my abject horror, Eeva Leena   
starting to be towed away by - not the other Goddesses when Eeva Leena was seriously injured  
- but by the Victims -  
  
- "Stop!", I cried, and tried to retain grip on my awareness and use it like a   
weapon, "Where are you taking him! Victims, speak to me!"  
  
But there was only soft notes in the back of my mind. Drawing them up to their full  
volume I tried to hear, tried to discern something from them. All I heard or managed to   
hear before they disappeared completely was a fade of soft green and a brush of magenta -   
and the one word I found they managed to discern from our thoughts and copy almost   
perfectly: "Away". Even as I shoved the Reneighd Klein's boosters forward, the last traces  
of Victims and their thoughts slipped from view, and with a last desperate glint, Eeva   
Leena disappeared into the vast of space.  
  
If I had been Gareas in this position, I would have punched the wall and vented out   
my anger vocally until the comm. links shattered. However, I could only seethe inwardly and  
let the immense feeling of guilt wash over me. My brother, Ernest, had died in order to   
save his best friend Gareas - and here I was, his very capable little brother, in perfect   
position to retrieve that same Gareas, and dumbly didn't move because of a headache! It was  
disgraceful. I could only imagine my brother's voice, soft but firm, telling me to be more  
careful. "Mistakes may teach you, but it is still better to avoid mistakes."  
  
Things did not get better once we got back to base. As soon as I stepped outside,   
Rioroute proceeded to slam me several times on the cockpit door, regardless I could read the  
flurry of spiteful thoughts that immediately got transferred to me. Tune and Leena were   
both pulling on his arms, trying to get me off of him, but for radically different reasons:   
Tune was looking to save me from the rest of Rioroute's wrath, and Leena was looking to   
have her own chance at yelling at me. Not that I could blame her; she had just lost Gareas   
and her Goddess, and it was not fair to her. The pounding in my head only served to throb   
louder with every thought, every wave of emotion that came spiraling my way. Was it a   
sudden loss of concentration or thought that sent everything crashing down?  
  
Rioroute froze, his arm falling into place beside him and dropping me into a heap.   
His face remained frozen even as he slumped, unconscious, to the linoleum floor, and vaguely  
I connected the two as the floor Gareas had pounded in frustration as a dented, torn,   
ripped Reneighd Klein hovered above him, still proud on its supports to lift it up.   
  
"What did you do to him?", Phil ran up and slapped me hard enough to whip my face to  
the side. Quickly she gave a furious glance and lifted Rioroute, hungry appetite and all,   
back to his room. Leena gave me a furtive look, then a quick eye at Tune, then swept away   
to her own room. Beseechingly I looked up towards Teela. What in the world happened? Did   
I - could I - cause Rioroute to lose consciousness like that?  
  
"Hypnogogic hallucinations", Teela said simply, as if it explained everything. I   
gave her my best "I-don't-understand" look, and she sighed. "It usually happens when a   
person hasn't gotten enough sleep. The person sees hallucinations without being able to   
control what he sees." She gave me a sharp look. "You were able to put him in one, just   
for a few seconds."  
  
Suddenly worry rippled over me. What had Rioroute seen? Had it been something   
important? It nagged at the end of my thoughts, a little trailing thread that refused to be  
cut off. Absently I pushed past Yu and Teela, promised Tune I wouldn't go looking for   
dangerous objects to kill myself with, stopped in front of a door, a door I had entered so   
many times. Hesitantly I slid the door open to the tree room. My brother would understand.  
My brother always understood.  
  
I could have sighed with relief. The trees almost waved at me happily, as if it   
were my older brother coming to greet me. That was it! The hallucination must have been   
about...Ernest? With quick steps I strode to the grove and sat against the tree. I could   
feel the vents blowing declarations of love, of separations, declarations of death, crying,   
pain and misery as well as golden light and joy from above in the people that came here in   
the spare time to say what they needed to say. Now I was here. What would I say?  
  
"Brother, do you hate me?" My voice sounded so small. I wasn't like my brother   
Ernest, tall, stately, almost statuesque. I was just his little brother here. It wasn't   
such a bad feeling - if I imagined, I could almost see him in the mind's eye. I did not   
cry; it was more relieving to find I could still call up my brother's face than push him   
away. Of course, it wasn't very hard to remember his face; all I had to do was look in the   
mirror and - there he was, staring back at me.  
  
The other would be looking for me soon, a voice pushed me. But I didn't move. Let   
them try to enter my sanctuary.  
  
Was I so completely like my brother that we even had the same little quirks? I   
could sometimes see Gareas looking at me when I twirled the strange-looking food onto my   
fork and placed it carefully in my mouth. Was he seeing Ernest in me? I wondered sometimes  
if he saw so much of Ernest he got us completely mixed up. The other day he stopped me in   
the hall, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Ernest -". I found I couldn't listen   
to his next words, all I could hear was the first word, the name of my dead brother, always   
on his lips.  
  
And if I tried hard enough, I could even hate my brother.  
  
It was almost ludicrous, the way I thought. If I tried hard enough, I could almost   
imagine I was happy Ernest was gone. It gave a chance to discover my own individuality. I   
was tired of having people stop me in the hall, staring at me, peering at me like I was   
some kind of ghost, then shaking their heads and saying, "No, it's not Ernest. It's just   
his little brother Erts". Was that all I was, a little brother of some great legend? The   
little copy of the man who saved the life of the one he trusted the most in the world?  
  
For once, it wasn't fair that I wasn't the one he trusted the most. For two, I was   
not getting angry. In fact, I was perfectly calm as I sat against the tree. It was the   
leaves above that were angry, shouting in their chattering, frantic voices to stop thinking   
these thoughts. The vents blew almost a melancholy chord against my ear, brushing my hair   
past my ear to whip savagely against my eyes. I lifted it away and continued to stare in   
the distance. It took me a second to realize I was staring at not just the slope of a mini-  
hill, railing and stairs, but a person descending slowly up. The hair, the uniform was a   
dead-giveaway. It was Rioroute.  
  
I stood, defending the sacred ground that had been my brother and mine. No, I did   
not hate my brother. He was the one who gave me identity in the first place. Being   
"Ernest's little brother" was better than the label of "stranger", that I knew enough. But   
he had given too much to me, as I had grown to be almost an extension of his spirit. If I   
ever wanted to know if I could achieve my own individuality, I would have to ask my brother.  
Unfortunately, he was dead and I would never be able to do that.  
  
Despair filled me, both from the figure approaching me and from the thought my   
invincible anchor could be dead. "Brother", I whispered before Rioroute could get close   
enough to read my lips or hear what I said, "what do I do?"  
  
We stared at each other for a moment, then Rioroute turned away, almost embarrassed,  
and sat down a few steps from the top. "Are you coming down from there or not?", he asked   
gruffly, but I could almost smell the fear on him. Now I was a little apprehensive. Just   
what HAD I shown him in that hallucination?  
  
I did not sit, only stood over him and tried my best not to let my screaming   
questions emerge from the back of my throat. My voice felt dry. I felt trapped.  
  
"Gareas - Gareas once showed me here, you know?", he begin uncertainly, as if he   
wasn't sure. Rather, I was sure he wasn't so positive about coming to talk to me in the   
first place - it must have been Phil's doing, I decided. He wouldn't come up here to bother  
me when I was off in my brother's world if it had been anything else. "I asked him, 'How   
long do you think we can remain pilots?'"  
  
I must have fallen down, because the next moment Rioroute was beside me, shaking me   
anxiously and muttering, "Wake up, Erts, I swear it wasn't me. Get up, Erts, don't die on   
me or something."  
  
When my eyes fluttered open again, he sat me up, only to envelope me in something I   
could only describe as a affectionate hug from a brother to a brother. I froze for a   
moment, and my thoughts began to chant "And I thought he didn't like telepaths?" as I leaned  
in to his arms. "You know", he began softly, "you're not really like Ernest, you get what   
I mean? Ernest was so much more distant. He wasn't used to people, I guess, before   
whatever brought him here. You grew up here, surrounded by different people, or at least to  
some extent." He detached himself and held me at arms length, as if he were a father   
surveying his favorite son. I could hear his thoughts of encouragement and warmth, and felt  
my eyes close, trying to memorize the moment, freeze it in time. "You're Erts, you know   
what I mean? I'm not saying I didn't like you brother, but I guess it could be said I like   
you better, Erts." He panicked for a moment at his words and added a hasty, "I didn't mean   
that an insult to his memory or anything, Erts! Don't get me wrong on that one!"  
  
I shook my head and my forehead crashed against his shoulder again as a plea for   
another hug. He gave it gladly and even ruffled my hair a bit, like Ernest used to do to   
me. There, that name again. My brother. Oh, Ernest, was it you who brought Rio out to   
meet me now, to comfort me? If you did, I thank you, my dear brother, because it has   
suddenly made me feel so much better.  
  
I could feel the slow cycle of his thoughts change to a bit more sober, dreary   
thoughts. "Erts", he said softly, and his mind filled with confused colors. "You really   
miss your brother, don't you? That's why you still come here, isn't it?"  
  
Slowly I took his hands from my shoulders - I didn't want any loose thoughts seeping  
into his mind. "Yes", I answered, "somewhat. I come here because I feel he is still   
here."  
  
To my surprise Rio didn't jump up in amazement. Was it possible he felt Ernest as   
well? I couldn't be sure what his EX ability was, so I didn't know. Instead, he mused,   
"That so? I could feel him, just a little wisp of him as well, when I came in here a few   
weeks ago. Doesn't seem that long, does it, since he's been gone. It seems only yesterday.  
Proves how much a telepath can cling to your brain, I guess." He gave a funny look and a   
sheepish gesture of embarrassment.  
  
There was a few moments of silence. "What did I show you in that vision?", I asked   
finally. He looked at me slowly, almost lazily, and then gave a weak chuckle that was   
completely false.  
  
"A boy, flipping back to retrieve his fencer-sword-thing, then you cornering him,   
and then a horrible feeling." Rio gave a little shudder, and I rubbed his arm absently, as   
if it would help bring warmth back into him. "It felt like the world was falling apart all   
at once, like it was crumbling. It felt like you were getting stabbed in the gut a million   
times. All that time I thought I could see through Ernest's eyes, you know, or something   
like that? I could see the back of that Victim we fought that day, then the large teeth   
coming down, then that horrible scream and your voice screaming something like 'BROKEN,   
BROKEN', you know, something like that?" He looked far off into the distance and slipped my  
hand into his, tightened his grip to me. I could see it too, strangely, thought another's   
eyes, and I heard his unspoken thought, "It was him dying. I know that's for sure. I just   
never thought it would that painful."  
  
His arms went around me again. Brother, I thought desperately, I hope this is your   
doing. Have I found a substitute for you this soon already? Brother, my dear brother   
Ernest, give me my identity, tell me what I am, not just a copy of you like everyone thinks.  
Speak to me, my brother, give me my own feelings so I can be Rio's little brother, tell me  
so I can love him as I loved you!  
  
I hardly noticed I had somewhere along the way, I had started to call him not   
'Rioroute', but simply 'Rio'.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
Ick. Sap, even if it's brotherly sap. But don't you find little Ertsie's mind nice  
and maleable? *gives an evil chuckle* It's sooooo nice to play with...thoughts taste like  
honey...*smacks head* Gawd, you starting to imitate Schuldich, and Heaven knows that's not  
a good character to copy. Anyways, I made Rioroute sound intelligent here - why? Because  
that way he's not a pilot for no reason. He obviously got to be a pilot for some reason...  
and half of that is because he knows how to use his brain. That's proven here. Of course,  
who'da thought Erts would find solace with Rio? And what the heck's with Garu?  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	4. I See You

Ch.4: I See You  
  
For a moment, I thought I saw an angel over me. On second thought, I did see once,   
albeit it was dressed in pale blue and did not have a halo. Still, it was an angel with big  
white wings, and, to my knowledge, that meant that I was well and truly dead.  
  
Why, then was I lying on a white hospital bed if I was dead? Shouldn't I be lying   
on a replica of my own room or something?  
  
"You're not in Heaven yet, Gareas Elidd", the angel by my bed said. Before I could   
even open my mouth to ask her name she answered, "You can call me anything you like, as long  
as it's not derogatory to me or a Victim in anyway."  
  
A Victim? Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling. This was not G.O.A. It didn't FEEL   
like G.O.A., somehow - the feeling around me made me rub my arms, as if it were very cold.   
It wasn't, in actuality, it was just a very, very strange feeling that someone was WATCHING   
me every single moment, every single second, so they wouldn't miss anything. It felt weird.  
It felt exposed.  
  
"Then where am I?", I asked, suddenly. "This kinda looks like what Heaven should be  
like, all white or pure or something like that, there's an angel by my bed. Is there   
anything I'm missing?"  
  
And even as I asked that, I could feel the jolt of my amnesia fading. Snatches of   
battle...getting distracted, my best (deceased) friend's face hovering over me...a sudden   
jolt and everything was gone. I thought about what I had been thinking about for the last   
moments before I passed out, and a bright neon sign pointed to "Reneighd Klein". That would  
mean Erts/Ernest would have heard, or seen me get knocked out. Since it wasn't very   
plausible that I would get hit over the head by one of my fellow Goddesses, I could only   
assume it was a Victim.   
  
"Correct", the angel-who-looked-like-a-miss-know-it-all said. What was she, some   
kind of mindreader telepath like Ernest?  
  
"Correct again", which only served to make me grumble. Just who was she anyway?  
  
And suddenly, unexplainably, I knew that girl was a Victim. Angel she may look with  
her pure wings, but that didn't rule out the possibility of she being a Victim. Which, of   
course, meant she was an enemy, and the fact she was probably a telepath didn't help ease my  
guard. , I wondered, where was she was. That was currently my only means of   
escape.   
  
As if to answer my question, the I-can-call-you-anything angel went over the window   
behind me and clicked the blinds open with a nice (perfected) flick. I gasped, and then   
drew my mind back before they could read it too thoroughly. Eeva Leena was there, right   
outside several meters of solid glass, looking none worse for the wear. As I watched, a   
figure took off from the shoulder of the Goddess and gracefully swooped to hover near the   
cockpit to join several others. I gave a smirk - apparently they did not know how to open   
the cockpit yet.  
  
"Don't underestimate us", the woman/angel said. "We have the superior technology   
and the upper hand of our little war. We haven't sent the most of our fleet yet. In fact,   
you may be forced to make another Goddess." I blanched - material to make the Goddess was   
extremely expensive and only could be developed in space. To be asked to make another   
Goddess would drain several colonies down to nothing, and leave several million people   
homeless.  
  
To put the question nice and blunt and out in the open, I said as dangerously as I   
could, "Why did you keep me alive?" To my intense dislike, she gave a nice smirk, as if   
asking me to continue. "You seem to know everything about the five of us, the Goddesses,   
G.O.A. So why the hell am I still alive?"  
  
"You have been kept alive to tell us about Zion." At my little startled gasp, she   
gave a nice impression of the stereotype villain and gave a nice, evil smirk. Hey, at least  
she didn't laugh like Dracula in those Old Planet movies or something. "We do not happen   
to have any way of reading anything except the very top surfaces of your minds. We have no   
ability to dive down deeper and read memories. Therefore, we will try and interrogate you   
the best we can."  
  
I stood up quickly, and saw with some satisfaction that I had startled her. "And   
what makes you think that you can get ANY information out of me?"  
  
And silence followed. Then came that infuriating smirk across her face again and I   
felt myself growing a little more afraid and a lot more angry. I didn't care - they could   
torture me, they could drive me to the brink of insanity and I wouldn't tell them anything.   
So as I followed the angel-woman-Victim-person down the hall to what was supposed to   
"convince me otherwise", I could not think of possibly, what, just what, could make me spill  
everything. There was nothing, wasn't there? They had Eeva Leena - they couldn't take   
that away. I couldn't be sure how many million lightyears I was away from G.O.A., so they   
couldn't threaten me anything with that. What possibly could -   
  
- and there he was, the monitor machine beside his bed beeping, the soft, steady   
inhale/exhale motion of his chest, the color in his face, everything pointed to the thought   
that he was alive, that Ernest, my best friend, was now alive.  
  
I sank down to my knees on the floor and just wondered for a moment how I would get  
out of this one. This, this was what they had been planning to bait me with. They had   
retrieved Ernest's coffin and somehow brought him back to life. And as suddenly as the   
small, glimmering hope that I might be able to keep both intact, Ernest and Zion, everything  
came crashing down. Strange thoughts chased themselves around my head: that it was better   
if Ernest had stayed dead, and that even if Ernest did awaken, he would be a zombie. On the  
last thought, I caught myself before I could go over there and pull the plug on the outlet   
in the wall to end the life-support systems. But I couldn't, couldn't move, couldn't get   
up. , I thought. Almost as if he had heard me, he gave a  
soft mumble and turned over.  
  
"He's not in a coma anymore", the angel-lady said softly. "We woke him up to check   
if he was exactly as memories described him. Every test we performed, he passed all of them  
just as he passed them at your training in G.O.A. We have taken memories, or rather just   
data, from the Eeva Leena and yourself as you slept, along with some of the surveillance   
around G.O.A. His little brother, Erts, seems to think about him a lot. It is very   
interesting to watch this brother-brother interaction."  
  
As she went on to explain how they managed to somehow insert these memories into   
Ernest's mind and revive him with some kind of jumpstart back to life, I could only stare at  
something that I had never recalled Ernest having before.  
  
There were wings on his back. The white kind, just like the lady. Ernest wasn't a   
human anymore - he was a Victim.  
  
"However, he may not be able to remember you. We programmed him to be the Ernest   
personality, not to remember everything that has passed in his life so far." She gave me a   
critical look, and I gave a jolt as I remembered she could very clearly read my distress.   
"Do you accept?"  
  
Curse my weakness! I could say no, I told myself. I could say no and do the right   
thing and then Zion will be safe. Like hell Gareas Elidd is going to spill secrets! But   
even as I tried to assure myself that I would never say anything, I could feel the other   
side of the coin creeping up on me, flipping the tables slowly so I couldn't suspect, so I   
couldn't see anything. And slowly, desperately, I could feel my protests growing weaker,   
and the "save Ernest" side of me start to surface. Curse the fact Ernest had grown so much   
on me! We were inseparable, closer than anything on Zion or the Old Planet or the Universe   
itself and all its complexities. And even before my last objections died out, I could feel   
that resignition that I would live to regret every minute I lived in this guilt. I had  
betrayed Zion, betrayed G.O.A., even before I had said anything. All I could see was the   
figure on the bed, turning my way as if he heard my pain and was trying to ease it in his   
little "Mother Hen" way, the older brother, the one who understood everything you went   
through because he had gone through worse. Ernest, Ernest was the most important thing   
right now. And even though Zion nagged in the back of my mind, I could almost hear the   
Victims swarming in to kill us all before the day was over, the last bloody stand I wouldn't  
be there to watch.  
  
"Wake him up", was all I said.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's notes:  
  
*sighs* Another chapter. Well, there you have it. Stupid Gareas...but a body   
can't really blame him, eh? He's just compassionate, and that's exactly what Ernest would  
have done if they had switched places. Ah, feelings...*gives an evil laugh* Don't you just  
love playing around with them? But seriously, I think Ernest deserved more time before he  
died. Hey, I mean, he lived just a little over half the TV series. That's not fair! He   
should have gotten more screen time. Saa, the next chapter will jump back to Erts now.   
  
Andrea Weiling 


	5. Puppetmaster

Ch.5: Puppetmaster  
  
"Gareas didn't like you very much, did he?", Rio commented softly. I gave an inward sigh at that statement.  
  
I struggled with words. "He…he saw my brother in me. He didn't quite see the whole difference between us. I think he realized we were very different, but he didn't see all of it. It was as if…", I stopped, and tried to express what I was trying to say – I was used to expressing everything to Ernest in thoughts and colors, "he could see the differences physically, and maybe not mentally, but somehow, we were different. I am not my brother, as close as I was to him. Saa, you felt those differences too, the day you found me."  
  
That was what I called it. "The Day You Found Me" was that day in the circular tree room (actually called the Atrium, but no one called it that – it was all the 'circular room'), the day I found someone actually looking for me, not physically but for the 'Erts' that was apart from Ernest. That was the day I found someone else to depend on. Were telepaths all like me, ever searching for a person to lean on? But I couldn't be any more content with the arrangement – Rioroute wasn't the perfect brother, like the projection Ernest was, but rather he liked to project his imperfect side. He ran repeatedly into doors and doorways, tripped over chair legs, pressed a wrong button on the projection screen, and dropped everything from pens to his favorite thing in the world – food. Of course, that did not stop him from getting several more helpings. It was almost comical to see him make his way past repairers and staff during mealtime and fall over every other person's foot even when it was completely out of the way and there was no possible explanation for him falling over something that wasn't even in his path.  
  
It was a different kind of brother. He wasn't completely open like Ernest was, but that would come with time. Ernest had been my brother, and that was a different kind of friend. Truth to be told, my brother had not been completely open at first with me either; we had lived on completely different colonies before we came to G.O.A., as our father had wanted us to attend the best schools available. Therefore, we were sent to different schools, one for elementary and the other for middle and high school level, and we stayed there for more than three-quarters of the year. There was not much chance to see my brother, even when we were on vacations (which were ultimately too short and did not provide any rest at all because teachers continued to pile homework), as both of us did not seem to do anything but eat, sleep and do homework each day. The only good part was that our work was done in another location, a warm location, and one that we were much, much more comfortable with. The schools looked generally the same inside and out: white walls, low ceilings so that we could fit more people inside and wouldn't have to pay as much. I could understand why we liked it so much better at home; it was comfortable, and I'm more than sure that my brother was in a much more relaxed mood than if I had seen him at his school.  
  
"I think he wanted me to be Ernest, despite the fact he knows my brother is gone", I continued, and tried to look ahead. I didn't want to see what expression he had on his face. "Unfortunately I'm more empath than telepath because I can sense feelings or mood colors more than I can see actual words forming in a person's head, like Ernest's EX ability. That backfired on me, I guess, when I could feel Gareas' want for not me, but my dead brother to be here."  
  
Even without turning to look at him, I could feel Rio wince in sympathy.  
  
"Then…do you hate Gareas?", my new, imperfect brother asked me tentatively. "I should think he should have a little more rein over what gets filtered out to you, you know. Years with Ernest should've paid off somehow."  
  
"Gareas can block himself from me, somewhat. My brother did teach him. Anyone can do it, not just a mentally potential person. However, he is very used to opening up to Ernest no matter what the circumstance without holding anything back. Once a person's mind gets used to opening up to a certain wavelength, like one of those radios we saw in Old Planet History, it's very hard to close it up to a similar wavelength, like mine. When Gareas' touches me, his mind doesn't immediately discern the difference between my brother and my mind signatures, so it opens up to me. Gareas has to forcibly close it down and put shields up – he didn't do it before, so his mind does what it did before." At Rio's look of "go on", I sighed and said softly, "No, I don't hate him. In fact, I can't help but sympathize with him – he was my brother's most trusted person, and I can only imagine just how close they were."  
  
A rippled sounded through my mind. Was someone else thinking of something similar? Quickly I gave a quick scan of any people in the halls. No one seemed to be thinking about sympathy…who had I sensed? I pushed it to the back of my mind as Rio began to speak again.  
  
"Doesn't he have to put up different shields, though, because your EX is different?", he asked. I inwardly smiled; apparently Rio did not become a pilot by means of his clumsiness, as most people thought. Rio was much, much more in tune with his surroundings than most other people walking down the halls. He was inquisitive, asked questions often, and kept his surroundings in check. He liked a stable world, and that was what I thought was probably his reason for fighting: he wanted others to live in a place where there was stability, and no fluctuations in schedule.  
  
"Yes, of course. My EX is actually quite different from my brother's EX, if you get into the neurologist's nitty-gritty details. Gareas is used to blocking a flow of words; I sense colors and how they move and change determine what they are thinking along with some very surface thoughts that are shouted loudly so I can hear them. However, the shields or blocks that regular people can learn are the kinds that can block all kinds of mental infiltration, including my brother and my EXs. However, these can only provide a rough shield, and if the mind reader is talented he can still make his way through those. There are more specific shields, but that takes time to learn."  
  
Rio looked rather abashed. I knew what he was going to say. "Then…can you teach me, Erts?"  
  
I frowned. "Rio", I began slowly, "I don't know how to block people. I never learned it from my brother, and I believe he developed those shields he taught Gareas himself."  
  
The older boy gave a grin. "Try, then."  
  
"It will take time", I warned. Rio was not known for his patience.  
  
"That's okay", he answered, and if possible, his smile grew wider.  
  
I couldn't help but smile in return. "Then of course, Rio".  
  
* * *  
  
Sitting down on a stair near my brother's sanctuary, I took Rio's hands and clasped them in between mine. I tried to give as reassuring a smile as I could; I had never done anything like this. Rio squirmed a bit on the step and tried to return the shaky smile. I could see the colors of current mood, turning from a bashful red to a shy blue and then back again. Rio, don't be embarrassed. Remember, I'm just as inexperienced in teaching shields as you are.  
  
His mind color turned a deeper shade of red in utter embarrassment. "You can read my mind now?", he asked out loud, very conscious that I probably was reading his words right off of his head. Instantly the colors in his mind turned an abashed red and I gave a soft mental laugh to reassure him. Rio, there's no need to be nervous. I'm not going to brainwash you or anything.  
  
His eyes turned up to me skeptically and I felt the mock "You won't?" echo in our minds. I gave another whispering laugh, and tried to imagine what he was feeling when he heard it.  
  
Rio's mind was not weak. I could only imagine how many times he had actually touched Ernest. Not a lot, he admitted. I don't know…maybe I was just waiting for someone else to be touched by me – I sure as heck wasn't afraid of him like I think he thought I was, but I wasn't exactly willing to touch him either…it wasn't for the fact he could read my mind, though. It was because…because I felt that I could save my mind for someone else who'd need it more later…or something like that!, he added quickly. I was thoroughly surprised – an oracle of some sort? A person who could possibly, in some little way, tell the future?  
  
But…I'm not some fortuneteller, Erts! I'm just…well, Rio. For a moment I tried to guess why he could hear me, and gave an embarrassed dash of mind color when I realized I hadn't exactly been shielding myself. My brother had been used to, so only what he wanted to say came out. Of course, he had trained himself, and that was what I had to teach Rio and myself. It could almost be considered a backlash – you could hear others and yet you couldn't shield yourself.  
  
Very gently I tried to push Rio's mind back. He frowned as I slid a sort of "wall" between our minds. When it was in place, I couldn't hear him nor could he hear me. "Erts?", he said out loud. "Can you even talk through that?"  
  
I gave a small shake. "It's too solid, or too thick, you can say." At my lack of concentration the wall dissolved, and I grinned wryly. "And too weak as well. I don't quite know how my brother managed to keep the wall up and talk to Gareas at the same time."  
  
And from behind us, there came a soft voice. Yu never did speak much, so it was surprising to hear him talk this much for the first time. I didn't need to ask him to know that he spoke much more to his sister than to the rest of us. Rio immediately thought, He probably has a quota of twenty words per day and no more.  
  
"He researched", said Yu softly. I didn't quite have to strain to hear; his colors were twisting rapidly, as if he had been anxious to tell me this for some time now. "He could memorize the lectures that the teacher was giving without any problem, so instead of listening to lectures he researched all he could. He was absent for a week once, and had training to improve his EX with another former pilot who resigned but had similar powers."  
  
Even as Rio's mind said a recognized, Oh, so that's why he was gone that week in the second year, my mind whirled with possibilities. Who was this man, and could he come again to teach me the same things as he had taught my brother?  
  
And most of all, the question that seemed to be painfully apparent was the question, Why didn't he tell me this?. It hurt, being put aside as a little brother. If Rio's intuition was correct, than I must have been no less than ten or eleven when he learned this. Why, why didn't he teach me this? Did he believe that I could develop and learn this by myself? At times like this, I wanted my brother to be here more than ever – he left so much unsaid and unexplained.  
  
When I was accepted, everyone generally knew that Ernest had the most powerful and the most potential EX in all of G.O.A. And though I was proud to say that when I entered I tested several times higher on the EX telepathy tests than my brother did, it did not mean that my potential was any more than his. Perhaps, just perhaps, my brother had seen this, and known that I would not be able to learn how to make a mental shield. Was it because I did not have the ability the reason he never told me anything?  
  
I could not be angry. I could not even be annoyed. I was just plain desperate, and plain puzzled as to why he didn't – why he couldn't, rather – tell me this vital information. It hurt, even when my brother was dead and gone and should remain dead. He still lived inside, and it burned like anger.  
  
And I could not control my anger. To my side Rio shivered and crumpled against the chair, caught in another one of my visions. Yu helped me lift him onto his bed and gave a look that clearly condemned me to stay in the room as he went to get the doctor. Rio, Rio, had I hurt you? Ernest wasn't here, I shouldn't be feeling angry, and yet everything backfires on you. The desperate man once said, "Everything I touch crumbles to dust." Is that not true, Rio, that I am a desperate man? Will everything fall apart above my head, just at my peak of success, just when I have honed my skills to perfection?  
  
The higher the rise to success, the more painful the fall. Why must you suffer the anger I have for my brother when you do not deserve it? Will you fall apart as well, left behind, trying to wonder why you hate me so much?  
  
I realized for the first time I had been very angry. This must be the reason my brother never taught me this, I realized in a moment of revelation. My anger is the key. My anger lashes out at everyone and treads them into the dust. The thought left me trembling. I knew this now, I was the deemed the puppetmaster and the everyone else the puppets. Everything had been turned around, now. I had never become like my brother, he had become me and my habits. He had been MY puppet, my toy to play with and got lost when I didn't pay attention to it. He taught me so much, the curriculum, the study hall, the knowledge he gained day by day. I controlled him as efficiently as I thought he had controlled me. And yet, he held this one scrap of knowledge away from me, almost as a revenge for taking so much from him. I was not the one who needed to find his identity…  
  
…it had been him all along.  
  
My first thought was to utterly stay away from anyone. Let me be my own puppet and his master. Let no one get close to me – I will just use them as ruthlessly as I used my brother. Rio, my newfound brother, you are in danger, I thought. Do you not see the sheer potency of my poison? Will you withhold from me what my brother found and curse me as I leave you in the dust to bigger and better things?.  
  
And then, inexplainably, there came from inside of me a feeling, a feeling I couldn't describe, but it showed a yearning for something I had just discovered. Thirst for knowledge, for influence, for power. Unmasked at last, I saw what drove all people, and myself especially: greed. They gave this gift to me, not the gift of telepathy that let me see deep in the minds of many, but the want, the desire always for more. I was destined to be this innocent-looking, beautiful boy who charmed everyone with his good looks and his politeness. He was open, he was caring. He was everything a good boy should be and everyone knew that. After you got over his telepathy he was the most trustworthy boy in the world.  
  
Don't trust me. I will use you and leave you to the lions. You will scatter your own ashes over your mother's dead grave.  
  
And yet, wasn't every nation governed by someone who could use people? G.O.A. had a headmaster/principal/governor or sorts who could use his staff to dig the best out of their candidates. But I was playing a different game. I wished I were ugly, suddenly. I wished I would be so revolting so that no one would look at me and see me as this pretty boy who loved to learn and try to be everyone's friend and always succeeded. Always succeeded, I thought. Those were the key words. I succeeded in everything I did. I succeeded in throwing people into the dust when I had sapped their knowledge away from them. I succeeded in using people as effectively as the government governs the people. I succeeded in pounding my enemy into the dust as hard as I could so they would never get up again.  
  
My beautiful brother, Ernest, had been one of these enemies, though I never realized it. I stayed on board the ship when I could have saved him – the Luhma Klein, as it was called back then, would keep his body intact. I could have kept his mind intact. To find I had this POWER, this immensely useful thing on my hands: my will for victory in my life, this gift that allowed me to see into others minds without a second thought – this was what my brother knew I could, and would, become. This was why he hid that knowledge away from me; because he knew I would become a beautiful, terrible person who used his chess pieces as blindingly ruthlessly as he could.  
  
And as I looked over Rio on the bed, I knew my new, clumsy, food- loving brother would be used and tossed the same way. I would not know it – I would think that Rio was becoming my brother, falling into me as my brother and I became almost twins. We would become close, and I would force his guard down little by little. I would use him without knowing it. And then I would forget about him just when he needed me.  
  
The door opened, and Doctor Rill came in, eyeing me curiously. But before she could say anything, I swept past her and made my way to the Reneighd Klein. I had a feeling all my questions would be answered there.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
Well...I did not plan all of this before. The dark part...ooooh, I love it. I thought of it while I was writing, and I just had to write more on it until became a complex webbing of thoughts and what could happen. But don't you see? Erts thinks, now, that he's destined (sorry, too much X/1999 here) to be the puppeteer, the one who controls everyone's future to either good or bad. He knows he's using these people for the right thing, but he can't help but wish that some of them who had helped him on his little ascent to greatness could remain a little longer in his mind. He feels like some kinda cold-bloodedkidnapper who stole everything that was his brother's identity away and replaced it with himself. Oh, I feel sorry for him. He is Erts, after all. And it's his beautiful compassion that compels him to feel this way. *sighs* Poor, poor Erts.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	6. 500 Years Together

Ch.6: 500 Years Together  
  
I felt completely and utterly drained of all information. I felt as if the guilt had consumed me and swallowed me wholly and completely. I could almost hear Leena's cries on how I betrayed everyone and the shocked looks on everyone's faces when they realized just what I had traded this information for a Victim. Though I knew some people would actually be happy to see the blonde come back some way or the other (namely Erts), I couldn't help but feel that I had done something horrendous, something that shouldn't have ever been done in the history of Zion.  
  
However, that was not the only knew surprise. When I asked them why they were trying to take over Zion, they were trying to make the planet beautiful.  
  
What did they mean by that? Wasn't Zion beautiful enough? I knew Ernest had not been a colony-born, like me – he had been on that swirling planet. I felt I had to love that planet, I felt I had to know that object of all these lives that I wanted to protect. Zion had wildlife like the Old Planet – scientists managed to herd some animals "like Noah's Ark" onto a ship before they left. But needless to say, many animals on Zion were like the ones on the Old Planet, and so as a remembrance to what we lost to the first planet the Victims took away from us, we called these animals the same as what we called them on the Old Planet. Now no one could tell whether or not the animals were Old Planet animals or Zion animals.  
  
And from the round room that Ernest liked to escape to, I could tell that Zion had trees. Many of them, like forests, waving their branches and shedding their leaves like rain. I knew it had to be beautiful, just like what Ernest described once as "snow", something about ice that fell from the sky. I didn't even rightly know what ice was, except that it was cold and made of solidified water. From the numerous windows on G.O.A. I could see the green that covered Zion, and kept its inhabitants alive. Zion was beautiful as it was, I thought angrily. There was no need to change it.  
  
Beside me, the angel-woman who interrogated me gave me a glance. Oh, I thought, that's right. They can read minds, can't they?.  
  
"I think you need to take a bit of time off. Being interrogated takes a lot out of you", she said. Damn right, I shot back mentally. And just who put me into this?  
  
My protests faded as she led me down a hall I had never seen before. Where was she leading me? Outside? What if this planet's air would kill me? Vaguely I remembered that Victims also had to breathe, somewhat, but my fears didn't go away until we reached the last door. Giving a code too fast for me to follow (plus her wing was somewhat in my way, so I couldn't have seen it even if I'd tried), she waited patiently for a moment as the door seemed to think, to consider if the code was correct. Finally, my heart racing, I stepped through, and the door slid shut behind me. The interrogator had not followed.  
  
It was the Eeva Leena. She was in front of me, repaired to her full glory, and I almost felt like falling to my knees and praying reverently to her. I wanted to ask her to send me back home in her vessel, to take me back where I was needed. But Ernest is here, that little voice said. Ernest needs you more than G.O.A. ever would. You betrayed everyone, remember?.  
  
Just as I felt like slamming my hands to the ground in frustration, I caught sight of something – no, someONE – in front of the Eeva Leena. Somehow they made that light slant right down and hit that spot just in front of him, and illuminating just his face, upturned as he lovingly stroked the side of the Goddess, as if meeting back with an old friend. As I watched, he leaned forward and put his cheek to the cool metal. I knew how it felt – I had even fallen asleep with my cheek to the Eeva Leena once and had to have Leena wake me up. It was that feeling that she understood all, that she would always welcome you with open arms. She was the Goddess of the Eeva Leena, and she guided me. Scientists couldn't figure it out, neurologists couldn't determine, but all the pilots knew there was an essence, a something in there that wasn't just the machine program working – it was something else, something indefinable that was always there, holding her hands in the exact position so you wouldn't waver. She lent her strength to you, and you were always grateful for the next day you came back alive because of her.  
  
I had seen Ernest once, and that was when he was sleeping. It wasn't even rightly "seeing" as I had seen him through a monitor screen. If the wings hadn't been there, I would have guessed we were back at G.O.A., still little newbie candidates, still testing the waters of Instructor Azuma's temper, and still as far apart from each other as the elephant from the mouse. It was different now. That face gave that familiar little tug of fondness in my heart, the feeling you only get when you know someone really well, and know that they'd do anything for you. Literally, I reminded myself, and remembered how Ernest had gone off and gotten himself killed in the first place. It was a sobering thought, and as if my blonde best friend- turned-angel sensed the thoughts (as obviously he could), he turned his head and gave me the first, real look from him I've been thinking about for so long.  
  
Smile, I urged him. Smile that soft little smile that's only reserved for Erts and me. Go on, do it. I want to see it. Haven't seen it for so long I might've forgotten it, Ernest. Wait for me, Ernest. You are my closest feeling. You tore every bit of myself from me when you left, Ernest, so wait for me. Wait for me to come to you.  
  
And then that soft, wondrous smile crept across his face like a miracle and his eyes sparkled with unhidden delight. He didn't have to ask the question "Is it really you?", and nor did I have to answer it with a confident "YES!" that I wanted to shout to the universe at the moment, so loud G.O.A. could hear it no matter how many million of light-years away it was. He just slowly, almost as if this was the vision that could break into a hundred million gazillion pieces in lightspeed seconds, he extended his hand to me, and looked at me. I could read fear in that gaze. I could read incredulity. I could read happiness.  
  
"Damn it", I chuckled, "now you're getting me all emotional." I took the trembling hand and clasped my friend, my savior's weight close to my shoulder, and felt the familiarity of it spread from my hand, still grasping his, spring right down to my toes. It was history repeated again – in that room, the day I dragged him to class, I extended my hand to him just before lights-out and asked him a timid "friends?". He took it and held me close. It felt like we had been friends forever, and all our hardships from all our past lives were packed into that one emotional hug. Maybe we had met before, somewhere else, sometime past and long dead.  
  
Holding me at arms length, he studied me as if I were the favorite student of a teacher. "A famous man once said, "Why does a man board a certain boat with its passengers? Why did he choose that particular boat to board? The reason is because the man and these passengers have had 500 years together." Just like Ernest, to sprout some gibberish about being friends forever when we've just seen each other. Just like Ernest…those words meant so much. It meant that he was here, that he was alive and we could see each other and laugh over our mistakes. They never lingered long in our minds – we were lighthearted, and content to be such. Ernest was himself, and I was satisfied he was not anyone else.  
  
Then my best friend began to look at me with those eyes that made me want to just yell, "Go into some romance movie or something with those puppy eyes! Don't wag them at me!" and then drag him to some movie studio and become his agent. Unexplainably, he began to cry, and when Ernest cried, he cried with everything he could: shaking shoulders, the sniffing and the big tears and the whole lot. You would think that the world had fallen or something. I thought it was just plain stupid.  
  
I held him and tried to comfort him without getting annoyed or laughing my head off. This was Ernest, after all, and even if he was memory-deficient, he still had the temperament of the boy I had grown up with. "Oh, be quiet Ernest", I admonished, and panicked as he began to cry even harder. "I'm not good at this, Ernest! Please stop crying…please? Ernest, that's supposed to make you stop because it's the magic word, you know, or something like that."  
  
He looked up at me with those heartbroken eyes and said disbelieving, "How can you be so insensitive, Garu?"  
  
I smiled. This brought back memories. Our old argument. "I'm not insensitive, Ernest. You're just too emotional."  
  
"You should be talking, Garu. You're crying yourself."  
  
I touched my cheeks and was surprised to find he was right. Vaguely I tried to remember how many years it had been since I had last cried over anything. It would have to be the time Ernest died, I guessed. And then before that was the beginning of my training at G.O.A.. Even as I thought this Ernest's arms came to envelope me into a hug. "It doesn't matter how long it's been, Garu. It matters that you're crying for me."  
  
Ernest was almost the definition of perfect. He was practically an angel (and almost every hot-blooded repairer in G.O.A. swooned over him), he had perfect marks, took care of his little brother like a dutiful sibling parent, and was the pilot of one of the Goddesses. But being his friend for so long had its little observances – that Ernest was far from it. It made me laugh, actually, how little he knew about being a friend and having a friend in return. "The school I went to was made up of people at least five years older than I was. It was hard to fit in with them, since they were sophisticated teenagers and I was not."  
  
We laughed back then at the irony in Ernest's words. Now that we were teenagers, we knew that we were very unsophisticated. And we also knew that it wasn't just us that weren't sophisticated – it was everyone, whether they were eighty years old or nine years old.  
  
Against my shoulder, Ernest gave a little chuckle. "I can't believe you still remember that."  
  
I snickered. "I remember every little embarrassing thing you've done, Ernest." It felt so familiar, so…did I dare say right? to have him in my arms. Even as I thought it I tried vainly to scratch it out before Ernest could read it. That sounded like a line straight from some corny romance novel.  
  
It was then I think I realized I was destined to be Ernest's friend for the rest of my life. It was just that feeling that you were the oldest friends and would always be, wherever you went. I saved my sanity for this – for the day I would see my friend, my ancient friend, again and be able to say, "You are still my friend. You are still my BEST friend, and I still have no regrets about saying that. No one else comes close to being as close as you are to me."  
  
Destiny, Fate, God's decree. It didn't matter what I called it now. It was love, love of brother, love of lovers, love of our old, old amiable companionship. We were as close as twins in a womb. We were as close as the ivy on the tree. We were closer than brother, closer than the embrace that pulled us together again. I could squeeze him tight and still it wouldn't show how infidentally bonded we were. We could kiss and believe it was mushy love and it wouldn't change our relationship. It would just be another form of closeness we shared.  
  
Then it hit me. Ernest's quote. 500 years together.  
  
Ernest chuckled as he leaned against me, and his wings gave a warm fuzzy feeling as they close up around us. "Garu", he chided softly in that way only he could, "I told you that quote made sense.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
That quote's from Confucius, just for your information. I just think it's cool...but that's just me. Anyways, about the 'kissing' thing: what I mean is that they are close as that. Their relationship, their image of each other wouldn't have changed even if they had become lovers. It would be another outlet to show their devotion (as friends and as lovers) to each other. Kinda sweet, actually, but I think they're just content being friends for now. This isn't a yaoi story. This is a story about how people interact with each other.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	7. Meet the Teacher

Ch.7: Meet the Teacher  
  
Anger was the key to my power. As I entered the Reneighd Klein, I knew I would be angry when I came out. There was no way a machine, even if it was a Goddess, would be able to respond. Around me the vision blurred and cleared, and suddenly I was looking at the ceiling across from the Goddess docking bay rather than at just a plain wall. Gathering my thoughts together, I called as clear as I could, "My brother was Ernest Cuore. Tell me, Reneighd Klein – did my brother know I would become this? Did he know I would become this controller or people?"  
  
And silence answered. There wasn't any reply that I expected, after all. Furious, I did something very unlike me and very like Gareas – I hit the wall in front of me as hard as I could. The comm. links that floated around my head suddenly gave a tinkle and shattered from the amount of mental pressure I put on them. I could feel the anger build up, furiously wanting to be released, and I centered it around me, burning itself to exhaustion –  
  
The cockpit door suddenly opened and I was ejected out. All anger, the aura around me, dissipated in front of me, and I fell to the ground. Mentally I told myself to work on concentrating when I had the chance, and hoped this wouldn't take too long. It was almost time to meet Ernest (or what was left of him) in the circular tree room. However, I wasn't expecting to see who I did.  
  
"Instructor Azuma?", I said, surprised. "May I help you, sir?"  
  
The usually angry Instructor (at least that was what I remembered him as) gave a slight grin and said softly, almost as he was remembering something of his own, "I knew you'd be here". At my questioning look he continued in the same absent way, "I used to come here too, when I couldn't find an answer to something. I did all of my homework at this desk right here." He patted the monitor in front of him. "I made friends with one of the pilots and he gave me the password in here. I liked this Goddess the best, and later this was the Goddess was the one I piloted. You know, all of the Goddess appeal to someone, or some type of personality. That's why everyone in G.O.A. can pilot a Goddess if they sync right with it and have EX to back it up."  
  
I had a sneaking suspicion this wasn't the only reason the Instructor was here. "And just who did the Reneighd Klein appeal to?"  
  
The grizzled face gave me a wry grin and stated simply, "Telepaths. It appealed to anyone with a special mental ability, especially to telepaths."  
  
And suddenly it all fell together, the puzzle solved. Just when I was thinking of the question, the answer came: the teacher that had taught my brother was none other than Instructor Azuma himself. As the discovery thrilled through my mind for a few moments, jabbering questions made themselves heard in the core of myself, each debating the other in a furious struggle: to ask him whether or not if he could teach me anything. Perhaps I didn't have the potential to learn. Perhaps he was like my brother, holding the information back. Perhaps it was for some other far more personal reason.  
  
"I never thought…", I started, still simply surprised to say anymore. The Instructor held up a hand to stall anything I was about to say and shook his head. "You never noticed because my EX was blocked. It grows on you so that you can control it when you get as old as I am. However, you never noticed it in me because neurologists have put a block on it. I can still use it from time to time if the block is temporarily removed, but I vowed never to use it after I hurt someone with it. I had the neurologists insert something called a "banlieue" that puts tabs on how much EX you use a day and stops you from using too much of it. Of course, that meant I had to resign, but by then I was already over twenty years old and the oldest pilot running, so I think many people were glad to see my position relinquished."  
  
I stilled at his words. He gave up his powers because he had hurt someone with them. It made me feel incredibly guilty because I had hurt Rio and yet I had not stopped my use of them. The Instructor looked at me mildly, and I realized that he was probably reading my mind right now – as long as he didn't go over his EX quota, he could read my mind all he wanted. Apparently his EX ability was telepathical reading without an actual physical contact. Immediately I became embarrassed; he could read every thought right off of my head. The Instructor gave me an amused look at the last thought, and that only proved my suspicions.  
  
"You are no monster, Erts", he said slowly. I looked at him steadily, and inside of me my heart quickened. How long had he been reading my mind outside of that door to Rio's room?  
  
"And why is that?", I asked softly. "I am telepath. It is my job to use people."  
  
He gave a snort. "You don't look like a monster, for one. You don't sprout tentacles and whip-like tails and sharp teeth, Erts." His face changed to a more serious look. "And a monster wouldn't feel guilty if he used people."  
  
"It's not a coincidence all of the telepaths use the Cerise Klein in my time, the Luhma Klein in Ernest's time, and the Reneighd Klein in your time. All of the telepaths that have come through G.O.A. are drawn by the Goddess within, and that attraction only builds with each telepath that passes through the training station. Neither is it a coincidence that, for the short time a telepath is one of the five Goddess pilots, the Reneighd Klein becomes the leader, and takes over for the Ernn Laties. Each telepath becomes the core of the five pilots for a time, even if the pilot of the Ernn Laties is considered the leader."  
  
It made sense. All of the Goddesses appealed to a specific kind of person: brash like Gareas, conservative like Yu, comical like Rioroute, leaderly like Teela or soft and unsuited for battle at all, like my brother and me. Therefore, all of the leaders to ever pass through would sync best with the Ernn Laties, so on and so forth. It also made sense that the telepaths were the ones who held everyone together, and played 'leader' for a little while – he could mentally appeal to the people around him. It made sense that the leader of the pilots would be the person who could use them the most efficiently, and a telepath could read actions and movements better than any other person. It made perfect, logical sense, and I hated it.  
  
As much as I didn't want to be that 'leader', even for a little while, I could feel a stirring of anticipation. I liked a challenge, and this was large one. The challenge was to stay on top for as long as you could, which wasn't easy because thinking wore a telepath down critically. As I thought of this, a question occurred to me.  
  
"Instructor, then why did my brother not become this telepathic leader for a while? In all the times I remember, Teela has always been in command."  
  
Instructor Azuma shook his head. "Ernest never had a chance. He was cleanly broken in for only two years. He didn't have a chance to grow on the other pilots." Here he gave a humorless smile. "He got killed too fast. But the leadership was there, Erts – the other pilots trusted him to some extent. Teela was only their leader because she was the pilot of Ernn Laties, and that pilot was naturally in command."  
  
"But Instructor, if I know Teela, she will not give up that leadership freely."  
  
"It won't matter. This is out of her hands. Even if she has leadership, she has lost it to you already." He gave me a long look. "Haven't you noticed that you are more respected out of all of the pilots, not because your marks are so high but because you can smoothly accomplish anything you put your mind to? It's a gift, Erts. Use it. Plus, your 'new brother' as you've started calling him – he'll know when Teela will die. He's got a sense of psychic-ness around him."  
  
I was nicely surprised. I had not thought that anyone else had felt Rio's apparent oracle nature, but I should have guessed before that the Instructor had apparently been hiding this piece of information from the world as well. How the Instructor came to find I could not be sure, but even as that thought came to mind I reminded myself he could hear every thought I was thinking. Giving me an enigmatic smile, the adult said nothing.  
  
Great, I thought miserably. Even as a telepath, this isn't helping me.  
  
"You said…you said that telepaths are attracted to the Reneighd Klein. What happened to them?", I asked hesitantly. "They only remain 'leaders' for a short time, if I read your signs correctly. So what happened to them? They didn't…die, did they?"  
  
The Instructor looked off into the distance, and I knew the answer was 'yes'. Of course – common of telepaths was the want to be absolutely perfect. They were pessimistic perfectionists, as Gareas had once described my brother. That explained it…because telepaths wanted everything to be perfect, they could not stay on top for very long because they would constantly blame themselves for every little mistake. It was a trait my brother possessed as well – when Gareas dove in on a suicide run, Ernest kept me up with soft, miserable waves of pain that kept me awake the whole night. And because of that, I could tell my brother's concentration was just about at 'sleep' when he climbed into the cockpit the next morning. As I could determine from Gareas' kidnapping, Victims controlled minds very well – it would not take much to inhabit a sleeping mind and draw it towards them to tear it to pieces before they could rightly know they were being controlled.  
  
"And you, Instructor Azuma, how did you escape that fate? I take it was some lucky stroke." I looked up expectantly, and was a little apprehensive when he opened a mental link to me and vibrated several colors at me. A touch of red, a bit of a dark navy that I determined to be perseverance, and then a bit of light green to signify indignity. I could laugh at the combination – apparently it had not been HIS intelligence that had saved him, but someone else pulling him out before he could push himself far enough to reach exhaustion.  
  
Dr. Rill, to be exact, the Instructor's voice quipped to me. She got the big man in charge to drag me screaming and kicking from the cockpit. She managed to convince me I wouldn't be needed in this skirmish. It was only a bit later I found out I had been released as a pilot. I sensed a bit of hurt at this, and tried my best to soothe his temper. I didn't have any other place to go, so I stayed here at G.O.A. and generally helped out, and then I got sent a year later to a teaching station and I became an Instructor here on G.O.A.  
  
I grew silent. In my mind came the question: "Will someone save me?" The question sounded selfish to my ears, but I held it in check, and closed my eyes and tried to pretend I had said nothing. The Instructor heard, of course, but refrained from saying anything. A soft, twinging, uncomfortable silence settled over us like fog.  
  
Just when I was about to thank him for the new questions and the old ones answered, I suddenly remembered a question I should ask. "Then you…you hear them too, don't you? The songs they sing, the Victim songs. You hear them, now and then, even though your abilities are blocked…", I trailed off, not knowing quite how he felt on the subject. The Instructor looked a bit strange, distant, for a moment, then looked back at me. I felt a shiver, a trembling of a touch against my senses, and I was relieved to feel he wasn't too angry at me for asking the question.  
  
"Yes. I hear them…once in a while. Beautiful, aren't they? I used to hear them when I was on my colony as well, and be comforted by them while they fought our own troops outside. They have a special kind of magic in those tones. Not quite lyrical, but not quite instrument either." I waited for more, but the Instructor fell silent and I deemed that was the extent of that subject. Softly I thanked him with a hue of soft blue and made my way out of the docking bay with one last look at the Telepaths' Goddess. The tree room would provide some solitude, I thought absently. I needed that – there was a lot to think about. 


	8. The Meaning of Life

Ch.8: The Meaning of Living  
  
Playfully a hand tried to shake me awake. It sent light shooting straight into my eyes, and I gave a half-hearted groan. Giving it an annoyed swat, I mumbled something along the lines of "Leave me alone" and turned over. Soft, familiar laughter filled my ears, and instantly I was transported back in time, to another day like this. The lights would come on to wake the Instructors and staff of G.O.A at about four in the morning – and woke me as well. I spent the remaining three or four hours tossing and turning and grumbling to myself. It was a good thing Rio slept like a snoring log and Yu was too quiet (or out like a light) to complain. Only Ernest ever heard me, and he always tried to wake me from my half-drowsy state at six so I wouldn't be late. He'd laugh, that same lilting laugh that sounded like the music he had heard down in Zion and lulled me to sleep each night. He'd spend some time trying to get me awake, then take a shower, then come back and try again. By then it was almost seven, so Rio and Yu would be getting up, and finally I would drag myself out of the my bed and give Ernest a teasing swat again in his general direction and growl mock- menacingly. He would laugh and say he would wait for me. He was always there – the others always went ahead, sometimes to catch a bite of breakfast (which I usually missed) before going to class. Ernest skipped some bad-tasting, good-nutrition food for me, and we went to class together, whether late or not. Instructor Azuma would give us a look and order us another few laps when we ran.  
  
As my eyes cracked open this morning, I felt the awareness of softness against my cheek and patted the white wing that tickled my cheek. "G'mornin'", I mumbled in return to Ernest's flowing laughter, and felt more than saw the hand that took my hand between his and clasped it like the last golden thread of light or something. I watched in wry amusement (still only half-awake) as his thumb stroked the top of my knuckles like a lover watching his beloved sleep. He gave me a beautiful, subtlely beautiful smile, radiating warmth and something akin to adoration. It gave something Rio liked to call "the warm fuzzy feeling" when Phil gave him a hug and said she was glad to see him alive. Of course, these times were rare, as were Ernest's true inner smiles like this one, and it gave me a sort of settled peace that made me close my eyes and just FEEL his hand caressing mine.  
  
"You're so real", he whispered softly, and I smiled. Of course Ernest thought I was; I laughed loudly, I jumped, sprinted, ran around like a crazed five-year-old, and never sat still. I was a real, living boy to the very fullest. I lived my life like I would die tomorrow (which was actually very possible), and didn't waste a second of it. Ernest told me this before, clasping my hand as we ran down the hallway, late for our class. According to him, I saw things precisely as they were: every angle sharpened to its finest point, every color in its brightest, most vibrant hue. "Your skill is pinpointing things", he said with a smile that day. "If you don't overlook things too quickly, you can find many things that you can say are 'wrong' in your homework. You wouldn't get such a horrible grade if you went over it a second time carefully, Garu."  
  
He laughed then, and I felt my insides give a little way. Ernest deserved happiness, and he could have all the laughs he wanted at my expense if it gave him just that. I smiled as he held it to his cheek as if to feel it better. He gave it a rub, relaxing it, then tickled the palm with an errant feather. I gave a squirm; I was highly ticklish and Ernest knew it.  
  
"Get up, Garu. I want to show you something."  
  
I took my hand from his and pretended a disinterested air. "Depends on what it is", I mumbled, and turned around again. His hands pulled me back and he looked at me with an intense look, as if he couldn't wait. I was a little surprised – rarely had I seen Ernest so excited about anything. This had better be good, I thought.  
  
It will be, he said from his hand on my shoulder. You'll like it. His eyes held a secret enjoyment from keeping this from me. I gave an anguished moan and tried to roll back. He stopped me as his head came to rest on my shoulder in something like a hug. "Please", he whispered softly, and I closed my eyes. The white glare from the wings hurt my eyes too much.  
  
Excuses are useless. Your friends don't need them and your enemies won't believe them.  
  
Which was Ernest now? A storm of protests rose at this thought. He was a Victim, and they had consequentially been the ones who brought him back to life. Ernest knew that as well as I that if Ernest went back to G.O.A. there would be a lot of controversy – some people wouldn't like it, and other people would fight that. Ernest was my friend, and always would be. To me, it would not matter whether or not he was a Victim now or ever. But if he went back to G.O.A. and Zion, what would be the worst that could happen? He could be…killed. Again.  
  
And then I came to the final conclusion: Ernest wouldn't be coming with me back to G.O.A.  
  
Sadness threatened to steal the tears from my eyes and send them flowing. To my side Ernest read my distress and asked me what was wrong. We stopped in the middle of the walk, and the Eeva Leena loomed high above us.  
  
"What's wrong?", he asked softly, and his hands hovered above my shoulders. Why wasn't he holding me and shaking me? He knew as well as anyone he didn't need my permission to touch me. On a sudden impulse of fierce affection, I snatched his hand from the fabric of my shirt and brought it to my lips. I gave it a kiss and nuzzled my cheek against it, and watched as Ernest's face froze at the act, then softened. Oh Ernest, my thoughts are constantly on you. You are not my lover, yet you remain as close as one. You are not my brother, yet we share an unspoken bond. You are not my shadow, yet we cling to each other like lifelines. We are so different, you and I, and yet we remain together, finding each other in the most unexpected ways, and in testing our bonds, we've found they're stronger than ever before.  
  
On this note, does this mean that I should leave to let our bond grow stronger?  
  
Ernest's eyes gave me a sad, frightened look and I pulled him into my arms. No, I couldn't bear to leave him again. He'd be worried, I could feel, he'd be wondering if I stepped onto the battlefield – would I survive to see him again? My friend, always worried about me. His arms gave a warmth, a comfort from the coldness of what I had to do: leave him. I leaned into his embrace and felt his wings enclose me further. Yes, I lived every moment like I would die the next, and there was no moment I would treasure more than this, ever.  
  
Ernest took my hand and led me outside of the doors and into the planet named Hestia. I did not die from suffocation from the air. I did not die painfully as the pressure squeezed me the size of an old-fashioned soda can. I looked out over the stairs and the green fields and the trees and the rivers and started to cry.  
  
Everything was so ALIVE. I expected everything here to be dull, artificial, like that tree Ernest liked to sit in and chat with Erts in. I expected the grass to look almost gray, the sky a dreary shade of cloud with some lame star as the source of light, and the rivers look like they were caught in a time-compression and sluggish. Instead I found every blade sharp in its angles and every splash of color all at once jumping out at me, vibrant and brilliant as the new day. The sky seemed to wave cheerfully at me, the sun seemed to smile, and the whole land seemed to spread out like red carpet in front of me. I closed my eyes and looked away. It looked like Zion, a planet so incredibly real. The colonies had flowers, it had an artificial sky, but the clouds stayed intact, and even though the flowers bloomed beautiful there, I always got that air of falsity around them. It wasn't the same now. Every scent, every wind seemed to strengthen my senses, and I stretched my awareness over this land, beautiful, so beautiful.  
  
This was what I was going to destroy someday. The tears slipped down my cheeks. Live, beautiful land, live before I come back someday. That day will change for you, lovely land. That day there will be either two course of river: we take over you, or you become dust before our eyes.  
  
Either way your inhabitants will die, Hestia. You are like the Eeva Leena, pretty planet Hestia. You have a strong will and an unrivalled imagination. Like the Old Planet's goddess that you were named after, you hold these people of yours together, and they are your family. You are the very definition of the hearth, and the comfort of home. You breathe with your people, Hestia; their pain is your pain, and when one dies far away, you can feel it, and you mourn.  
  
I hardly noticed when Ernest came behind me and held me softly against him. He said nothing – his mental voice was silent, almost as if he were humming softly, and lax against mine. Ernest, Ernest – so like this land. Beautiful and soft and sweet, you feel for everything, my friend. You have come here and this planet has brought you back to life for me. And yet, I will return to kill it and all of its inhabitants, my friend. I am its sworn enemy. That will not change, my friend. What will you do, Ernest, when I return? Will you become one of these many in the fields, taken down as the earth under them erupts into red boils and covers their skin like blisters? Ernest, if you come with me, they will kill you, and yet if you stay here I might never get you back from this planet. You will start living for Hestia and its inhabitants, Ernest, and you will forget me. One day, the day I return, you will have forgotten, and when you see me, you will not be coming to greet me, but to destroy me.  
  
My friend, I must have faith. But seeing this duplicate of Zion, I have no faith. I am Hestia's sworn enemy, yet I feel compassion for it. I leaned back desperately, as if Ernest's warmth could take away the plan I had in mind and put another in my place, something less tragic. This planet was only this beautiful because the Victims made it beautiful, this I knew now. How could I destroy God's own angels?  
  
And suddenly I could see it. Colors, shifting rapidly in my mind as my eyes closed and my head rolled back in response to Ernest's touch. I needed this, I needed this warmth he gave as plans circulated in my head, one after another, each one more bloody and hopeless. Ernest gave me life, as the planet gave the Victims in their angelic forms their lives. Soft touches moved against my face, my lips, my neck sending soft shocks of warmth where they touched. Like magic, I thought, when my friend's mouth came up to kiss me again. The guilt and the reluctance to go back to G.O.A. disappeared, along with common sense. In this world that Ernest described to me wordlessly, I could stay as long as I wanted. There was no war, he told me as his hands whispered over my shirt. There was only the nature around us and him and me. No one else, I thought as I closed my eyes and the magic heated to a fierce, uncontrolled peak inside of me and then slowed down to the swift flow of a river between us. Ernest moved his head to my shoulder and I could smell all that made up him, my dearest friend.  
  
The wings shifted in view. Don't think that they're Victim, he told me. Right now there's nothing but you and me and the grass under our feet.  
  
I agreed wholehearted for the moment, and closed my eyes and rested my mind from troublesome dreams.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
WHOA! Before any of you start sending me flamers of "I thought this wouldn't be a yaoi story", it still isn't, even though Ernest and Garu...ahem. You realize that these two are very, very close. They give comfort to each other in any way they can. Ernest is only doing his job - and that is to provide Garu with anything that he needs that is in his power. Garu, in turn, accepts that gift in both gratitude and desperation - I mean, this might be the beginning of the end of his stay on Hestia.  
  
Oh, yes. Hestia is the Greek goddess of the hearth, which means that she's the goddess of the family and of the home.  
  
Anyways, if you read Ch.7 of "The Gate of Heavenly Peace", you'll realize I put just about the same thing on the bottom. Of course, that's different - Houjun and Kou actually love each other with a passion and all that. Ernest and Garu are the deepest sort of friends, the type that can read each other's thoughts right off the top of each other's heads (literally...). This is NOT because Ernest took this moment that Garu was weak and vulnerable and decided to have mind-blowing sex with him. GOT IT??? They're NOT a couple, they're just the deepest of friends, and understand each other's needs and wants profoundly.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	9. Foolish Boy

Ch.9: Foolish Boy  
  
He was doing it too. I could feel it. I didn't have to touch him or read his mind like he could read mine to know that he was comparing me with my brother. Dare I say I hated him now? My brother willingness to push me towards this – it was so eager. It made me feel like I was an object, a THING, he was glad to get rid of as fast as possible. And even though I knew that wasn't true, that there WAS a time in our sibling relationship that was truly genuine affection, it stabbed me every time I thought of it. If Ernest were here, I would call him a coward. I was his little brother, his WARD, and he was forcing this burden upon me, knowing very well that I would buckle under the pressure someday. Perhaps he was judging on something else, though. Maybe he thought I could end this war?  
  
I would not – could not – ever be happy with any award Zion or G.O.A. could ever give me. Publicity didn't suit me very well.  
  
I guess it could be said that I wished I knew my brother was a deceitful,bility", as Instructor Azuma had said gravely, "that you brother Ernest chose not to learn. He felt it would hurt people if they ever found out they had done something just because he told them to."  
  
Ah, yes. My brother. Always conscientious of whether or not to hurt people. Part of me wanted to say "but he hurt me!" and part of me wanted to shout "it's for your own good!", but neither side ever won. I close my eyes and thought about my brother for a moment. I tried to picture him, and saw his eyes looking back at me, then at Garu with a mixture of heartfelt affection and amusement at Garu's antics as the pilot ranted and raved about absolutely nothing. I tried to picture him, and saw him looking at me, that soft little smile that he reserved for only the people he was ultimately close to, the ones that he would gladly give his life to. I tried to picture him angry and failed miserably. My brother did not get angry. He got annoyed, he got hurt, he got every intense emotion except for that four-letter word that was his opposite: hate.  
  
What made my brother different from me was I could not control my emotions half as well as he did, therefore I couldn't control my powers as well as he did. His anger could be withheld; when my anger exploded, it struck everyone near, and everyone else a mild headache. My brother held his anger until he was out on the battlefield, and then released it there. That was why I could never picture my brother's face ever angry – he saved it to a place where I would never see the horrible, monster side of him.  
  
Rio entered the door to the circular Atrium. I gave a little nod, and he seemed to realize that I had somehow called him here. I hoped he would not be suspicious, but part of me wanted to tell him to run, to hide from what my EX could do to his mind.  
  
"Saa…Erts, why did you call me? I was only through my third plate…", he trailed off miserably and I couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"You should watch your diet, Rio. You can't eat too much, you know. And it's not dinnertime left. You should stabilize your three meals, not your snacks, Rio", I admonished, and heard his thoughts turn to indignation.  
  
"But Erts, I can't help being hungry. I don't know how people can't like the food here. It's excellent! Well, at least it's better than the stuff I had back in my colony." He gave a sheepish wave as he came up the stairs. "Did you want anything?"  
  
I gave a wince. "I don't particularly enjoy the food here, Rio, not half as much as you do." We both chuckled. "It may be nutritious, but I don't think it tastes very good."  
  
He gave a laugh. Full-sounding, like a horn blown to attention, freezing enemies to fear. It was the sound that kept the hope, the one sign that showed we were not afraid. "Erts, I don't mind the taste because I think it tastes good! Compared to what I had back in colony E12, this is both good-tasting and nutritious! I guess I couldn't really ask for more."  
  
I knew a little of Rio's history, from rumors and from himself. He was born on one of the poorest colonies in the history of Zion or the once- empire of humanity that stretched from galaxy to galaxy. His colony decided to have a "pride" and decided to send someone, with the funds of the poor colony behind him, to the training center in space, G.O.A. Rio was chosen because he met the qualifications and had the highest EX of all the candidates on his colony alone. Consequentially, he also had one of the highest potential EX in the history of G.O.A. as well. He succeeded beyond the poor colony's wishes; now they were well-funded by the government on Zion and had more than enough good-tasting food to go around.  
  
When he was three stairs away from me, Instructor Azuma said quickly into my mind, NOW!.  
  
Rio stopped, frozen, as my mind seized control of his senses. I closed my eyes and tried to move his arm, then opened them to see Rio's arm move at MY will. I was Rio, in his mind, and I could now do as I wanted. I was here for a purpose, now, but as I sat Rio down on the step he was on, I couldn't help but regret I had to do this –  
  
– Instructor Azuma's voice cut through my thoughts, You say you have a purpose. You cannot take over his mind forever, Erts! You must perform the test now!.  
  
My task at hand was not easy. In fact, it had not been done by any other person other than Instructor Azuma himself. How he came to learn it, I would never know and I had no interest in knowing. If he developed it himself, I would not care. I was to go into the mind of Rio and use his EX.  
  
If my intuition about Rio's EX was correct, he would be a valuable asset – he could predict the future before it even happened. He could change the course of the future. Rio would, today, attempt to tell me what he was Seeing, even though his powers as precog had not been fully developed or even known except to myself and Instructor Azuma. I hoped it would be something useful, but this WAS Rio's first actual Seeing, so I couldn't be sure of any results. I couldn't afford to get my hopes up, this much I knew. But somehow, couldn't I just somehow see something that would mean something to me?  
  
EX was not a good lesson to start with, this much had been made apparent by Instructor Azuma. I should have started with reading minds indirectly, through another person, or trying to teleport into different places. However, I chose this because I would need it, and need it fast. He complied, surprisingly, and told me something – Rio's mind was not strong. Using his EX too often could mean that he could be out of commission as a pilot, which meant that he would be sent away from G.O.A. I could not let that happen, and neither could Instructor Azuma – it would be like losing Ernest, a person I trusted, again, and it might possibly send me over the edge.  
  
"I see Ernest", said Rio softly. "I see him with Garu, walking with their hands around each other, talking. They are in a beautiful setting. It looks like Zion, but it doesn't feel that way. It feels deeper, stronger, as if the earth has bonded with them fully and is almost another sentinent being, talking to them as well. All three converse in peaceful harmony." Surprised, I did not question Rio. This might be a past dream or a dream of someone's, and not a vision. Precogs could pick up strange images, especially during sleep.  
  
"Ernest has wings."  
  
I closed my eyes and tried to picture that. I could not think of anyone who deserved wings more than my brother did. He was an angel through and through. However, I could not think how this would help me in the cockpit of the Reneighd Klein or any other place, so I moved on.  
  
"I see Erts angry and killing me."  
  
At once, my concentration broke completely. Almost immediately I could feel my hold on him and myself slip, and panic override every command Instructor Azuma tried to give me. I blocked everything out except myself, and felt myself crumple to the floor. Was it possible? Would I be the one to kill Rio? How would that happen, and why would it happen? It didn't make sense, nothing did. Why was I doing this, I wanted to ask myself and the world and everything in it. Why was this task given to me? Was I the one destined to save Zion, destroy Victim, despite all misgivings that came my way? WHY WAS THIS TASK GIVEN TO ME?  
  
"I see Erts' face more angry than ever before…", Rio trailed off abruptly as he regained his full senses. I barely heard him as he said, "Erts? What am I doing here? I thought I was in the cafeteria…? Erts, are you alright?" His hands tried to shake me conscious, I could feel my body rock back and forth as he tried to snap me out of my trance. But I couldn't. I was trapped, trapped like a fly in a spiderweb, and there was no way out of it. This was my job, that much I knew, but what was my own PERSONAL price to pay for it? DID THE WORLD NOT CARE ON HOW THE HERO FARED?  
  
With a scream, I shot out of his arms and tripped my way down the stairs and to my quarters. Rio stared after me for a moment, but I did not hear his words, just felt his emotions: have I lost my little brother already?  
  
But I didn't care. I kept running, slamming into people and walls and things and objects of various shapes and sizes, but I didn't – couldn't – stop running. I could scream and tear my hair out, but I couldn't get out of it.  
  
Vaguely I recalled the saying "With great power comes great responsibility" before I passed out on my bed.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
And...cut. Sorry, that last quote was from watching too much 'Spiderman', if you  
  
know what I'm talking about. Just watched it in the last few hours with a few friends of  
  
mine, so naturally the quote stuck around for a while. Don't worry, a bit has to happen  
  
before the last momentous ending comes and "Shiva" truly comes down to avenge.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	10. A Star-Crossed Star

Ch.10: A Star-Crossed Star  
  
I was aware of cool, light fingers against my forehead, and then nothing. I was aware of a soft, worried face leaning over mine, and it seemed like a dream in white linoleum walls and silver desks. Sometimes I saw people, drifting in and out, brushing against my existence like feathers. They came and went with a breeze, and I dared not get too close to them because I knew they wouldn't be here for too long. Sometimes I closed my eyes when they left. Sometimes I was the one the wind blew away.  
  
And then there was the music.  
  
Dull against my senses at first, I paid no attention to it. Then the strings seemed to call to me in dark violins and mysterious cellos, rising together as if to call me towards them. They brought me to the surface of this dark matter to breathe before I suffocated. As I broke the surface, I could hear the fluty trilling of the wind across the matter I was trapped in. I felt that if I could trust the music, I would be lifted up, high, high above this dreary planet and into the stars, forever a protector of this place. I would be imprisoned forever, unable to touch or see or advise, watching this planet decline forever and ever until it became nothing and its people escaped to other dimensions of time. And then there would be loneliness as there would be no one to watch, no one to share my views. The feeling made my very heart sag with defeat, and my mind droop like a flower past its season. But there was always something else, later. I would live through meteor showers, become a glowing, shimmering star myself as galaxies passed me by, strange beings' existences trying to take over my surface but I would bubble, and send them away. I would watch them cry out before they died as another better, more powerful being took over them. These empires rose and fell. I was doomed to watch forever.  
  
And suddenly I had the strangest feeling I was not alone. The music, the sounds of the stars were all around me. And it also occurred to me that someone was playing this music. She seemed to be tailoring it for me, twisting in and out of melodies, trusting my memory to play the main tune as her fingers shone around glistening strings, gliding over them with a practiced ease. Sometimes it would not be harp music from a harp, but rather I would hear a whole orchestra of flutes and dark oboes, and sometimes from a violin I would hear the soulful playing of a saxophone, blending in and out with a harmonica. Sometimes I would hear a voice, singing, telling me to rise above to greater things. There was more than just watching millennia pass, she would say. You could be one of those beings, fighting for what they believe in. You could have more than slow awareness of things around you and become a passionate, fiery person who shone as brightly as a star for a moment, and winked out the next.  
  
Wouldn't that make me less useful, though?, I asked her. I would not live for long, and my fires would wink out sooner than a century. Why should I become this when I can stay up here and watch for all eternity.  
  
She smiled wisely and said, You would rather have half the happiness and twice the longevity? Wouldn't it be nice to want something more than your existence for once? To be part of beauty for just a moment is better than to never be part of beauty at all.  
  
I thought about it. These little creatures, their fires burned brightly hidden, winking in and out of existence like millions of stars around the galaxy. It wouldn't hurt to try.  
  
Why should I?, I asked her finally. She gave a soft little smile, and gave a most strange answer.  
  
Because you are star-crossed. There is someone who needs you. You must go to him. He is more important than star-gazing. Fall from grace, and embrace mortality.  
  
I fell, and found my place. I was back in the Victim homeworld, the music still dancing in my ears. To my side, Ernest's golden head was laid against my shoulder and his hands were sandwiching mine. The feeling was both warm and chilling; he was a Victim, and I always had a dislike for them because they were the ones who attacked the beautiful planet of Zion. And yet, I had a sort of fascination for them; if my senses told me correctly, my dream had once been true. I had been a star, burning brightly for many, many millennia, and fell to embrace this enemy, this friend, this brother, this lover who I had been living for. He was my crossed-star, and therefore the one I became mortal for. It didn't matter what he was – only that he was the sole reason I was here now, away from eternity written in the stars, away from forever watching my fires burn low with each passing century.  
  
The singer, the wisewoman. I knew who she was. She was none other than this age-old planet, ruled by beings who sought only to beautify, to make just as picturesque as their planet with their vibrant hues of green and blue. They were cool, relaxing beings, and they didn't mean anything. They were just like us – having goals but never getting there. This much Hestia had told me. It was so strange, I thought, how we could live a life that was never satisfied.  
  
I dared not touch Ernest. He might awaken if I did. Of course, he might awaken if I didn't and my thoughts grew too loud, so I hushed myself and softened my tones. I tried to picture him in another form, what he might have been if he had been a star. A colorful nebula, perhaps. Maybe the Milky Way galaxy that mankind had shot out of several thousand years ago. It looked like a swirl of white dust, trembling as its power gathered and exploded into a heaven of light. Yes, I could see Ernest like that.  
  
No words could describe my crossed-star. He was perfect to me, even with all his imperfectalities. There was no one like him; all of his quirks stood out in my mind. If what Ernest had said was true, and my EX really was observing things, than I must have observed Ernest more than any other thing in my life. A person couldn't really say our bonds – they were unseeable, untouchable, and past physical strength. It wasn't a matter of devotion, either – if one of us suddenly turned evil and started destroying everything, the other would not try to KILL the new entity inside of him, but rather fight to get the old personality back. Usually humans are unlike that. People are naturally out for their own good – they fight, they win, and the victory money is theirs. Perhaps it would be said that I would be the same, towards everyone if desperation brought me that far. Except Ernest. He would always be my crossed-star.  
  
To my side he stirred a little, and made an innocent murmur of "Garu, it's time to wake up" and shifted his hand to circle around my waist. Trembling I lifted my hand and ran a few golden threads through them, and felt them slide smoothly under my grasp. Angel could not describe him as he was now. He was an angel too, at least to me, even when we were back at G.O.A., rookie candidates, yearning to be the best of the best.  
  
Ernest was right, I guess: we really have met somewhere before. There was one thing wrong with that theory, though – it has been more than 500 years. It was longer. It was that soul-feeling that you got when you heard something philosophical and true and it rooted you to the spot because it rang out with such simple honesty. That was the way my dream was; truthful, soul-wrenchingly true, and seemed especially to me.  
  
I gave a little smile. I liked that advice, to stick by Ernest for as long as I could. As if he could feel my thoughts were aimed towards him, Ernest turned and gave me a weary look. "Oh, you're awake", he said, half-asleep. "I thought you were going to sleep until the day was over or something."  
  
My smile grew a little wider. "No, it's too comfortable to be sleeping."  
  
"You sound like you're my lover or something", Ernest counteracted. I snorted.  
  
"I am your lover, if you've forgotten", and I gave him the best superior look I could muster at the moment. Ernest's head fell back down on my shoulder, tired from being held up for so long, but he gave a soft whimper when I ran a hand through his hair.  
  
It doesn't matter what you become physically to me, Ernest. We understand each other like no one else does. Some people don't find their crossed-star until many, many years later. But I'm lucky, I guess, to have mine so young. Now if I could only live to enjoy it…  
  
As I drifted off, I was only aware of warmth by my side, and the feeling of a shared fire between us.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
This chapter was completely sap, wasn't it? It was almost romantic- ish, but not really...at least that's how I saw it. I think it was the wording I used: "lover". Actually, I might write a fic on this idea later, after I've finished this fic. I don't know, though. I might try and finished "The Gate" first; don't want more projects than I already get in school. But this was SAP. The next chapter is better, I promise. I think. This chapter is only here because I think Ernest and Garu needed a little more down time, while frantic little Erts back home is getting his act together and the stage set.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	11. Antigone

Ch.11: Antigone  
  
The next day, I triggered into Rio's EX, and he said loud enough not to be taken wrong, "Teela will die soon", then collapsed on the step we were on. As I tried to shake him awake, the trees above seemed to say "it's your fault, it's all your fault" while I furiously glared at them, trying to get that feeling of intense guilt out of my head. Rio had been collapsing far sooner than I had originally expected – he had a distinctly strong mind before. However, this side of his EX had never been attempted before, so it might be that this EX's energy reserves had been lowered to support his other EX reactions instead because his precognition was never needed before. I stopped short when a sudden thought crossed my mind: had someone ELSE been using Rio's EX for other reasons?  
  
I shook the thought from my mind. No one else knew except for Instructor Azuma and I. And why would Instructor Azuma want to use Rio's EX in the first place? To tell when he would die? Rio's EX had only a span of several days ahead – not several years.  
  
And at the same time, I detected a lack of…something in the last statement. It was quite possible Rio could see far into the future. I couldn't be sure because I had never attempted it. However, right now, it was more important to get Rio awake and out of here before someone thought I knocked him unconscious in a fight or something. Knowing my reputation around G.O.A., however, that would not be the top thing I would be penalized for – I appeared too peaceable, too pliant, so I did not have much fear of being thrown out of G.O.A. for a simple fight. Plus, I could influence Rio's mind to testify for me, if the need ever arose.  
  
I shivered. Another guilty thing I could do. I had learned so much in the past few weeks that I had begun to itch to use them. However, I restrained myself – I did not want to get caught reading someone's past thoroughly just because I felt bored.  
  
I could feel someone's eyes on me, suddenly. I looked down and the very source of Rio's prediction was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyes shimmering lightly in the dim light, and her hair flowing regally behind her like a robe someone would wear to see the king with. On seeing I had noticed her, she took the steps two at a time to me, and picked up Rio still lying slack in my arms. I was too speechless to say anything; had she heard? If she had guessed my intent with Rio, I wondered what she would do with that information. Get me evicted? Possibly, especially if she suspected that someday I would surpass by very, very far.  
  
Tagging behind her, she one-handedly palmed the combination for Rio's door (I wondered how she got that) and entered the quiet quarters of my clumsy, and seeing his room, messy older brother. Clothes had been strewn about, some food that Rio had somehow managed to sneak past the Cook (or asked for personally – I wouldn't be surprised if he had a separate diet in the room) had their wrappers on the floor, and the bedsheets looked as if it had been a snow avalanche off of the bed instead of being folded neatly. If I had been here solely to admire Rio's apparent disorder, I would have laughed. However, I was not, and when finally Teela was finished tucking Rio in the bed and arranged his shoes by the nightstand, I followed her out of the critically bombed pigsty and into the nearby hangar, where our Ingrids were kept in tip-top shape by our repairers. We stopped in front of hers, the Goddess Ernn Laties, and just stared up into that benign face the held so much compassion, and so much mercilessness.  
  
My throat felt dry as I looked at her. She reminded me of Teela herself: quiet but caring, doing things only for the necessity of the planet and of G.O.A. Teela was selfless – she gave all she had to the battlefield, to provide protection for those who needed it, and saved none for herself. I know she would dive headfirst into a Victim to kill it if it would save even one young boy or one elderly grandpa, just if it would save anyone. Faintly I wondered what she, as a ruler of a country, would be like. I could see her, cruel and beautiful, and throwing troops to the battlefield, wishing always she were them, instead of commanding from the rear. She would dare not get close to any of her soldiers – when she received news of their deaths she would be devastated on the first wave. She would have been intelligent, as a queen – she would fragment the army into small, small groups and tell their commanders to use them wisely. This way she had many, many able and intelligent commanders as well as herself. Teela would have made a ruthless queen. Yet all who looked upon her and her deeds could only say she was a miracle worker, even though all the people she sacrificed.  
  
A beautiful, terrible queen. The thought made me shiver. Would I become like that when I became leader of the Goddesses?  
  
Teela was not one for words. I touched her arm lightly and the thoughts sparkled under my grasp. She was warm, loving, like a sister denied her brother for too long. She remained distant from everyone so that when she lost them, she would not grieve and lose her focus in battle. Yet, I knew I piqued an interest in her. She knew, somehow, already, that I would protect Zion and G.O.A. better than she ever could. And she revealed something rather strange to me – that when she closed her eyes, I was always there behind her eyelids, looking down at her. She needed to protect me at all costs so that I could save Zion and all its inhabitants, she said. Again, there was that selflessness, knowing that I would do nothing for her tomorrow, or the day after the next, when in battle she would be cut off, and I would do nothing to retrieve her.  
  
I would die someday, she said. And if I die, what happiness! She gave a soft mental sigh. Time has taken me too long from the ones I promised to live for.  
  
I gave a start. That's one of the Old Planet's Greek plays, isn't it? 'Antigone', a play on a girl who sacrificed herself to bury her disgraced brother.  
  
Teela gave a soft smile. Of course. I should have known you paid more attention in History class than you did in piloting class. You had your brother to depend on for that.  
  
I gave a rather sullen silence after the mention of Ernest. It seemed everything I said, everywhere I went, my brother was my ghost, haunting me in the people who knew me. Even my talks with Rio somehow always seemed to turn to my passed-on brother, as much as I tried to turn it. She seemed to sense this, and said softly, "Even I can sense the difference between you, though."  
  
"How so?", I asked. Teela's EX had nothing to do with mental abilities, this much I knew. So unless she was very, very good at reading people, she could not tell what differences there were other than physical differences. But apparently this was her talent, reading people, even blank faces like mine, for she acknowledged her lack of information with a nod and a hidden look.  
  
She gave a vague look before she started. I don't think anyone had ever heard her talk so much before. "You are different because of your driving force. You strive to be different from him, even though you know it is him who should break your mold. Ernest Cuore strove to fit into the molds that people provided for him, fitting their comfort zones. Perhaps that could have been used to manipulate people, yet he was unsatisfied with what greed could offer him in favor of what true, honest relationships could offer him." She gave a smile and bowed her head. "You are ruthless in your power, now. You hold much of it, and though you want to live by the same pure standards as your brother, you cannot. You want more. You want to make this world your own. What would you not do for an elixir of life? You could rule forever and ever on this planet, until someone dared to kill you. But they would never succeed, would they? You would always be on the alert, and even when the whole world was against you, you would always have the upper hand, the last ace to play. The people would fear you, respect you for what you have done to them. You understand the human need to fight, and you would satisfy it. You understand the human greed, and you would give all who deserved a dose of either poison or candy. You understand that everyone needs this and that and you strive to satisfy everyone's needs, knowing all the time you have been satisfied as well because your only need in life is to know you are helping someone."  
  
"You are the same as your brother in that aspect. However, you are the opposite of your brother otherwise. You are all that you brother strove not to be."  
  
And suddenly I was horribly, horribly angry. But I kept my EX in check, and even though I could see her eyes widen when my hair turned a sudden green, flickering like a broken lightbulb, I reined it and threw it to the back of my mind. Hate, an emotion absent and unfelt in my brother, burned deeply in me. That was another difference, I guess. It used to be unfelt in me as well, but time and power had changed that. It changes everyone, doesn't it? Only one person seemed to escape that, and that was my brother Ernest.  
  
And for the first time in my life, hate coursed through me towards that one person I had always, always trusted, always depended on. His betrayal seemed to grow on me, and with it I defied him. I would become the leader of the pilots, that I took for granted as his goal passed on to me. But I would not, would NOT thank him for it. He brought this upon me like a plague of locusts, and I never wanted it. He thrust me into this position I never desired, and now, for the first time, I hated him for it. It burned hot inside of me, as if a dam of lava had suddenly burst and now heated every corner of me. The liquid felt like it had been burning to be let lose.  
  
The alarm bells rang. I ran to Reneighd Klein. And before Tune or anyone else could see, I slapped the cockpit door as hard as I could, almost as if I tried to leave my fingerprints there for all time. I hated this machine. I hated this position I should have wanted, that my brother left as a legacy for me to fit into. But I found now it didn't fit me. I wanted more. I wanted what my brother promised me, a position as the leader of the pilots, as the sole hero that saved Zion from all Victims and survived through thick and thin times. I wanted to be the ruthless commander who used his troops to achieve victory, and didn't care about how many million lives were lost in an instant. The sky could cry blood and black feathers, and this hate, this hate of living, this hate of everything that made up this world, the hate of my brother and his best friend, off somewhere laughing in hell because of my frustration in living. "We have only a little time to please the living, but all eternity to love the dead", said Antigone a million times on the Old Planet.  
  
I was angry at Teela as well, but that disappeared when she died. A sort of heartfelt goodbye was said when her body was sent out. Beside me, Yu looked dead on his feet. It had been the third sortie in two days. He was tired, as I had been. My heart went out to the silent, solitary pilot and his repairer sister. Rio had slept all through this sortie, exhausted from his overtaxed EX. My heart went out to him as well.  
  
Though this time the Goddess had left no loose ends to be cut off like when I had been promoted to pilot (the Goddess had to withdraw from the battlefield from sheer lack of firepower), there still needed to be a new pilot. I was not surprised when Instructor Azuma chose number 88, my friend Zero Enna, to become the new pilot of Ernn Laties. I could tell many officials had lifted eyebrows when a fourteen-year-old was promoted to be the new pilot. However, I think Instructor Azuma felt he needed to reward me a kindness, and instead of letting 89 come up, he chose 88 instead. As Zero came bouncing into my room, I smiled and chatted with him like it was nothing. For a little while, I found relief with his cheery attitude and his exclamations of excitement at his promotion. I could smile genuinely, for a little while.  
  
For a little while, I forgot he might be someone I sent out into battle and let free. He might die because of me. But that was for the good of Zion, for the good of the people. And though my personal feelings, my personal greed, paid a bit of influence in my decisions, on the outside I was still only fighting selflessly, like Teela, for the good of Zion. And as Zero bounced back out of my room to check out his new, finally personal, quarters (Goddess pilots didn't share rooms), I could hear his excitement. Then he faded from memory as I took a few tentative steps down the hall. Stopping in front of a door I had only stepped out of a few hours ago, I hesitated only a moment before I knocked three times and palmed the door open.  
  
"Rio?", I called to the messy room, and made my way carefully around piles of dirty/clean Agui Keimeia uniforms (I couldn't tell which was dirty and which were clean) and half-eaten food. I looked softly, almost affectionately, down at my new-now-old brother. Giving his shoulder a little shake, I tried to jolt him awake, to tell him what he had missed. To my surprised, he did not wake, just continued to slumber peacefully. And while that made a touching scene, somewhere in the back of my mind I was worried; Rio should have awakened by now. Overly using an EX should not have tired him out this much. At most, it should have knocked out a person for no more than an hour, no matter how extensively long it had been used. Against a voice that told me just to ignore it, I went to the nurses at the sick bay and told them to check up on him. A little more wearied than usual, I made my way to the cafeteria. I brought a tray back to my room (special privilege of Goddess pilots), and after I was finished mechanically eating, brought it back to the Cook, who gave it a good scrutiny and then gave a weird look. I knew what it meant; I usually finished half my tray and dumped the rest. This time, I had actually downed the whole thing.  
  
It made me think of Rio. It made me think of the prediction he made, that I would kill him. Was it possible? Would I truly do such a thing? A voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I had somewhat "caused" Teela's "accidental" death, but I shoved that from the back of my mind as Zero came into the cafeteria, looked around for a moment, and stomped over to me.  
  
Surprised, I cocked my head at him. "Zero? What seems the matter?"  
  
Zero pointed to the now-closed door, in the general direction of what he thought to be the hangar door to where Ernn Laties was kept. "That GUY! You know, that other pilot? He practically threw me out of the hangar! Said he didn't want me snooping around again. He's just mad I fell into the cockpit of his Ingrid the first time!"  
  
My whole body seemed to tremble. "What?", I managed to say. "Who is this?"  
  
Zero threw his hands up in the air in an exaggerated gesture. "That GUY, whatisname, that pilot of that Ingrid with green and blue on it." At my nonplused look, he continued exasperately, "the one I fell into the first time, you know? Erts?"  
  
But I was already running towards the door, Zero and all thoughts of his promotion to Ernn Laties forgotten. I realized now, just who it was, just who must be back. As I skidded to a halt in front of the hangar door, I lifted my hand to palm it open –  
  
– And it opened to reveal my brother's best friend, apparently back from whatever mad escapade he had gone into. He looked as he ever did, his hair frazzled and his posture bordering on arrogance. My eyes widened in horrible realization as he gave me a good look. He knew. HE KNEW WHAT I WAS DOING.  
  
"Erts", he said conversationally, coming to lean casually beside me against the wall. I tried my hardest not to stare at him, trying to will him away when I knew it was futile. I scrambled for ideas: to wipe his memory of all that had been G.O.A., of Ernest, of me, anything. I couldn't decide what to do – it was as if a million life threads had been laid out before the hag of death to cut, and she couldn't decide which to cut first. I trembled, I cursed mentally, but it did no good. HE wouldn't be afraid to evict me. He had no ties to Zion, except as a protector to it. But he had no emotional ties to it, no personal ties. He wouldn't hesitate to get rid of someone who had become as ruthless as I had become.  
  
"Garu", I managed to say, and my voice stuck in my throat.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
Whew! That was tiring. But, it's a better chapter than the last two. So, enjoy. Things are heating up, aren't they? Oooh, I love this fic...I get to twist it around all I want. *gives an evil laugh, then coughs* Sorry, got carried away. Anyway, I kinda thought of making Erts just kill Teela right there and then when they were talking, but then decided against it. I could make him very, very evil and make them throw her body out into space without a coffin, saying she was a traitor, but I don't think Erts is that heartless just yet. Mark my words: JUST YET. That means he might in the future...oops! Giving too much away, I am.  
  
As for all the references on "Antigone", I read it in English class, so I just had to put that in. I love the quote "We have only a little time to please the living and all eternity to love the dead". I kept repeating it in my head as I wrote this.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	12. It's My Fault, But I'm Not Sorry

Um, to answer sherry's comment – I believe that the cockpits do have doors – to just have that jelly-like substance there wouldn't do when they went out into space (space is a vacuum, right?). Sorry, I'm no major in whatever area that is, but even if there IS no cockpit door…Erts, um, slapped the metal beside the cockpit! So there! * shakes head sadly * Really lost it there, Andrea. Wait a moment! They did have doors! I swear they did! In the episode where Zero had to be pulled out of the Ingrid, Gareas was pulling on a DOOR to the cockpit to pull him out. So, I guess, the cockpits do have doors.  
  
Ch.12: It's My Fault, But I'm Not Sorry  
  
When I stepped into the hangar, Leena gave me a hug and promptly burst into tears. She even went as far as to kiss my cheek and squeeze me as tight as she could and wouldn't let me go until I told her I was choking. Then she leaned against the Eeva Leena for a moment, her namesake, wiped her eyes, and ran off to tell everyone else that I had come back. I smiled almost sadly as I looked after her; she didn't know what I was coming back here for.  
  
I was here for one reason, and that was to obtain permission for Ernest. He was not here, but I knew every bit of him like my own, so I would act as him in all decisions. "I trust you" was what he said before I left, and I could not but say "and to you too". Even now I could feel that golden thread stretching across the eons, connecting us spiritually. I closed my eyes for a moment and leaned against the vessel that had brought me here safely. I felt its security just like Ernest was beside me now.  
  
On a sudden curiosity, I went over to the Reneighed Klein and put my hand. I jolted back when a sudden spark alighted across my hand. I frowned, and thought for a moment; had Erts put up a ward to keep me out? If so, why, and what was he hiding?  
  
Then that idiot that fell into MY Eeva Leena the first time came bouncing in, talking about HIS new Goddess, the Ernn Laties. When I asked him about Teela he just shrugged, said a nonchalant "She's dead, I think" and continued to admire his new Goddess. Something rippled through me at that moment; as far away as Teela's death was, it suddenly made me realize that she was not invincible like she put out after all. And even as I berated myself for not realizing that sooner (it was plain common sense that everyone has to die someday), her death seemed to echo another, one that had not completely gone away. After throwing the idiot 88 out, I thought for a moment, then decided to see just who was doing this. This whole atmosphere wasn't right, I finally noticed. It was twisted, bent out of shape. Someone had been tinkering here, tweaking things. I palmed the door open suspiciously, as if it would close on my foot as I tried to walk out or something, and stopped.  
  
Erts was there, panting, having run all the way from somewhere to see me. I felt mildly flattered; was I that popular, to be greeted personally by my best friend's brother? Then I realized something: he was not staring at me with incredulous affection, but with fear.  
  
Now, the brothers were never afraid. Ernest used to go out into the Luhma Klein and fight for his life, yet he said he never felt truly scared. Erts hadn't even been in the cockpit of the Reneighed Klein, as later the Luhma Klein would be renamed, back then. Ernest didn't feel fear; he felt apprehension, he felt the glory and the ultimate rush of battle, but never fear. He never HAD anything to fear, he told me once, because he would die any moment. He took this job, knowing the consequences, knowing that he could die any day, yet he still took it because he felt it was the right thing to do. He took the job, knowing that if he did leave, there would be no regrets, no regrets at all, and that made him unafraid and give it his all every battle. If he survived, he survived. If he died…that was the end.  
  
Never, never had I seen eyes that scared before. It was almost as if –  
  
– and suddenly it clicked into place, the pieces of a puzzle. Erts, the brother of Ernest Cuore, one of the best pilots in the history of G.O.A., was getting lessons from someone, who was probably our old Instructor, Azuma Hijikata. I knew, as well as any, that telepaths were destined to be the top someday – but apparently Erts had decided to speed that up. Suddenly I felt very afraid for Rio and Yu, and perhaps for myself as well; there was not much a person could hide from a telepath in full power, like Instructor Azuma used to be.  
  
"Erts", I said casually, and leaned against the wall. I tried to keep trepidation out of my voice; I couldn't be afraid, at this time. What could he possibly be afraid of? That I would tell the high-and-mighty? It wasn't as if he wouldn't become the leader of all of us someday, so I just took it as a fact of life. I knew that I could never become the leader, or rather, Head Pilot – only a person with certain skills could do that. I was too impulsive, too eager to let lives loose and never get them back. Guilt ate me up easily, and mercy was not a good trait in a pilot. Sometimes I felt sorry for the Victims, but that would quickly disappear with each wound they inflicted on the Eeva Leena, and on me.  
  
He answered with a soft "Garu", looking like he was petrified, and stared at me. Just when the gaze was going a BIT long, the door behind me opened and out stepped the person I was hoping to ask – Instructor Azuma. He gave a little inclination with his head, and I began to follow him. He probably knew the thoughts right off of my head, if he was training Erts and his EX was still intact. I could feel Erts' eyes following me, and suddenly I was aware of just how this looked: his brother's best friend, walking off without even a goodbye. On a sudden burst of confidence (I knew Erts would be able to read me if I touched him), I reached out as we passed and I ruffled his hair affectionately, as I had done before, like his brother before me had done.  
  
I didn't stay to see his face.  
  
We first went to the memorial hall. It was empty now, devoid of all people. As we got there, Instructor Azuma gestured over to the computer in the corner. The most recent death was Teela Zain Elmes, of course. I looked at the name sympathetically. She HAD been one of us, hadn't she? That made her an ally, at the least. The name seemed to shimmer in front of me, and I left before any tears could be shed. I figured I had cried enough, after all, when I was still on Hestia and had just seen Ernest again.  
  
I closed my eyes and tried to figure out how long it had been since I had seen him last. Only a few days, as it only took a few days to get here. I had been put into a sleep, only to wake once we were back in base. The Victims did everything while I was asleep: they stimulated my voice giving out commands to dock, into position and greetings to my repairer. They had studied us well, I figured. Just the mere thought of Ernest alive made me giddy, but as a person sobered after too much alcohol, I realized possibly the only person who might possibly enjoy his brother's return was Erts, who was currently a very suspicious suspect.  
  
The next door we went to was a door I was quite familiar with. Yu was the only one on the ship to share a room with his repairer, who also happened to be his sister. The Instructor palmed it open (I wonder where he got the clearance) and motioned me in. I entered, a little scared; I had never been in Yu's room before. As my eyes settled to the only light, a lamp by the bed, I saw two figures, one on the bed and one sitting to the side of it. The one on the bed was Yu, and the other one was Kazuhi, his sister. She gave me a glance and scooted over to give me room.  
  
Yu looked exhausted. His mouth was partially open as he slept, and his breath came out ragged. As I watched, his face contorted and his mouth tightened into a line, like in battle. To his side, his sister diligently held his hand and stroked it, murmuring soft words that were only meant for him. I looked to the right, to the nightstand, and stopped short.  
  
Pills. There was a bottle of pills on the table. How innocent. I didn't have to read them to know that they were sleep pills. A little shocked, I walked out of the room as fast as I could, but not before putting a soft hand on Kazuhi's shoulder. Her brother didn't deserve this, especially. I wished I could have split myself in half and let half of me stay here while the other half of me got kidnapped. Yu's exhaustion was probably due to the fact that I had been gone, and thus forcing more work on the four remaining Goddesses. I stopped outside of the door and absentmindedly traced the palmer by the door, as if it would change everything. Then the Instructor led me down the hall.  
  
The sick bay wasn't crowded, especially now because all of the students were in class. There were always quite a few people there, not including Dr. Rill – students fought all the time, as well as Pro-Ing injuries (an injury your machine gets you get), and of course, people just there temporarily, just to get a bandage or their some gauze for slippery hands. There were several beds for people too weak to move, which was rather a rarity, but today, there was someone in the last bed.  
  
I gave a strangled cry. "Rio!"  
  
Running over to the beside, I placed my hands dejected over the glass covering they had installed over the bed. I frowned; he didn't look critically injured, so why did they encase him in a box? Did they WANT to send him off into a coffin? "What happened?", I demanded the Instructor.  
  
He shrugged. "Overuse of EX", he answered vaguely, and I narrowed my eyes. At my vicious look, he continued, "Rio has precog ability."  
  
That made sense. What didn't make sense was why they didn't allow people to touch him. I could guess he was in a coma, but that was no reason we couldn't touch him or at least hold his hand. I could feel anger building up in me. Erts had done this, and for a reason I didn't understand. It wasn't hate, that red-hot burning sensation in the back of your mind, but anger, the emotion that left a narrow streak down to revenge.  
  
As we walked down hallways, I stopped suddenly. Rio's mind could not have been infiltrated that many times that he would pass out; Erts would be in a coma before that. I knew very well that Rio's mind was stronger than he looked. Erts would have to be worn out too, by using his OWN EX to provoke another person's EX…he would be overworking himself as well! In sudden revelation, I realized it was not one person, but TWO people who had planned this. Quickly my mind searched for clues, anything, that might point to who he was close to: there was Ernest, who Erts didn't know was alive; there was Rio, Yu, and Teela, all in various states of uselessness at the moment; and then there was –  
  
– Instructor Azuma.  
  
"You", I hissed from my breath. "You've been using Erts, haven't you?"  
  
The Instructor looked vaguely amused. "Very good, Garu. I would think you could figure it out." At sight of the beginning of what I knew would be a protest out of my mouth, he waved a hand and continued, "It was me who taught Erts everything, which meant I could do all of it myself. With experience, I have much more mental endurance than Erts does." He gave a grizzled, sly smile that I never noticed being there before on the Instructor's face. He had not been kind when we were candidates, yes, but never had I seen such a malicious look. "I myself influenced his mind not to suspect me, even when it became apparent that he was overworking his own EX by using Rio's. Foolish boy." He gave another grim smile.  
  
The world before my eyes flashed red. Hate was here, in my arms, in my head, in my heart, ready to strike down this man. Erts was not the ruthless one, he was! The very person that Erts had begun to trust as a mentor and teacher, was his own mind-reader. A telepath reading a telepath…it seemed ironic to me. But my anger I kept in check, and trusted Instructor Azuma to follow me to the study hall. As a pilot true to his word, you had to be chivalrous – I intended to save Erts' pride.  
  
"One duel", I told Instructor Azuma. "Guns with one cartridge kept at belt until needed. Fencers will be our weapons." After all equipment had been put on, we stood in the arena, and watched each other.  
  
For a moment, I could imagine the world was right, and Instructor Azuma was still only my instructor. I could still be a candidate, for a moment, still wondering how to solve the mystery that was called Ernest Cuore and his little twin Erts, still wondering how to pass Old Planet history class (which I was notoriously bad at; I barely scraped past), still dreaming about which Goddess would be mine, which Goddess one day I would be in the cockpit off, ready to save the world from all destruction.  
  
And then he lunged, and we began to 'study'.  
  
My movements were unlike Ernest or Erts'. When I practiced with them, they were light on their feet, instantly knowing when to strike and when to feint, an ability bordering on precognition. Actually, I was pretty sure it was just this set of brothers – they were naturally quick and agile, lifting the fencer like it was nothing, and knowing each step by heart as if they had done it over and over before. My movements were different. They were heavier, but just as fast; I had the advantage of power. I knew how to use my weapon in all forms; how to glance off of the handle, how to 'cross-over' and send my opponent's fencer into the ceiling, how to make the opponent's fencer my own to throw out of the ring, instantly giving me victory. But this would be different; even after I threw the sword out of the ring, he still had one cartridge, one bullet, to shoot me with.  
  
I had to keep that in mind.  
  
Apparently Instructor Azuma had not been practicing, because as much as he tried, he could not copy moves while trying to avoid my every move. He tried several of Erts' tactics, as I had identified, but none worked; I had seen them all before. With a swift flick I sent the protective glass over his face shattering, and his fencer into the far wall, behind me where he couldn't get it without me striking him down. He gave slow, heaving breaths, and closed one eye from the line of blood that trickled down from the cut on his head. His mouth made a grizzled smile.  
  
"I'm calling Erts over here now", he said, almost laughing, and I bristled.  
  
"Don't bring that boy into this! He would still be innocent, if it wasn't for you!"  
  
He gave me a wry look. "He was desolate without his brother Ernest. I think I did him a favor."  
  
My fencer inched closer to his neck. "The day that was a favor is the day you go to hell!"  
  
"Erts", he called, and I saw the silhouette of the boy in the doorway. "You killed me, Erts, by not coming here fast enough." I was close enough to feel that he was sending something mentally to Erts. No!, I tried to say to the boy mentally, but I could tell by his trembling that whatever the Instructor had sent to him had been received. With a movement took quick for me to catch, Instructor Azuma whipped the gun out and fired it. I watched in horror for a moment as Erts froze in place. For a moment I thought the bullet had not struck, then I saw Erts' hand slowly, slowly come up to cup his bleeding shoulder.  
  
"Erts", Instructor Azuma said hoarsely, and smiled. He knew his death was coming. I threw the fencer to one side and pulled out the gun by my side as he spoke his last words. "Ernest is at the 360 coordinates, the LaGrange System. 46W, 25N."  
  
By this time I was well and thoroughly fed up. This man had just destroyed a boy who also happened to be my best friend's little brother, had just SHOT the poor boy, and was now telling him where Ernest was, which I presumed he had gotten from my head. I had had ENOUGH of his mind- reading tricks. If I hadn't been so bent on achieving justice my own way, I would have let the authorities deal with the manipulative bastard and have him rot slowly in jail. However, I believed in mercy, and I hoped this would suffice for 'mercy'.  
  
I fired the gun, and the Instructor crumpled to the floor. I felt no remorse for a monster, this THING who had corrupted Erts in the worst way he could have. He used the very memory of Ernest and twisted everything that Erts loved in his brother. I watched as the younger blonde fell to the floor, and I know he was receiving the aftershocks of a loss of 'presence' in his mind (if a person has had a lot of influence over one particular mind, when that user dies, the person's mind becomes unstable because there is no support). Stripping off the stupid white suit, I yanked the fencers from their positions and threw them onto the rack. "Erts!", I called, running over to him. "Erts!"  
  
But the boy was nowhere to be seen. There was no trace of him, not even a drop of blood to show where he had gone. Before I could contemplate this mystery, though, it was solved as the familiar voice of Leena came over the comm. "Gareas Elidd, pilot 02, please report to the docking bay immediately. I repeat, pilot 02 report to the docking bay immediately. The Reneighed Klein has begun to lift off!"  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
This was more of an informational chapter, I think...not much emotion in this one because I had to fit so much in it. As for the Reneighed Klein...well, let's say that the reason Garu got shocked was because Erts slapped it earlier, right? To answer...well, I think it was someone who reviewed, actually: why did I use Erts and Garu? Well, I used Erts because I already wrote one story on him (My Brother's Replacement, but that was one-shot) and because I find him very, very interesting (I sound like Clay). As for Garu...well, you can't really say he's the main character but you can't say he's the supporting character either because he gets a chapter all to himself every other chapter. So the answer to that question would be...I don't know. Maybe I wrote about them because they're both related to Ernest in some way?  
  
*sighs* I think another three chapters will end this. This is the story on its last few lines. I'm sorry I couldn't put more in this chapter...but a)I didn't quite feel like it and b) is there anything I should say more? Gomen, minna.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	13. Indecision

Earlier I said Rio's suit was the Tellia Kallisto, but it's actually the Agui Keimeia. The other thing is that this story isn't entirely accurate – pilots are sent to the GIS, which is where the shuttle Erts boarded in Ep.7 was going to. There, the Ingrids and the pilots can travel easier to attacks around the planet. If a battle happens to be by G.O.A., they can led help by sending Pro-Ings. But, in this one, I made them come back to G.O.A., which isn't what really happened.  
  
Ch.13: Indecision  
  
I had to get out of there.  
  
I wasn't sure how I got to the Reneighd Klein, but somehow I was there before I knew it, and heard the Goddess within call to me. Placing a hand on her side, I lowered my head respectfully towards her. She had been used by so many, she barely felt it anymore. When she was injured, she bore it all on the hope that her pilot would be safe. Sometimes she wasn't able to save them – she would mourn, then receive the new pilot with open arms. But I promised her something, and she had smiled down at me patiently, knowingly, and told me I would indeed make that dream come true – I would be the last pilot that G.O.A. would ever know. I would be the one to defeat the Victims. There was more than one promise at sake: the Instructor died, telling me the place I could become a hero to the people. All I had to do was destroy a planet. All I had to do was kill everything on it.  
  
Ernest told me that too. I would be more than the top pilot who died honorably. I would be the one to destroy and come back alive.  
  
It was time I left it all behind. This world had given me a lot of knowledge. But my purpose in life was not to stay peaceful and quiet. My instincts told me this: I was to leave this place I have known because I couldn't stay. If I did, I would become the cruel, terrible king I envisioned Teela to be. I would be acting only for the good of the planet and loyal to only one side, unable to step into another's shoes until he was dead. That was what happened to Ernest. I only take over when the position is empty. Then it is only a matter of time before I can take it.  
  
There were two sides to me. One side told me I was leaving so I wouldn't hurt any more people. The other side told me I was leaving so I could return and use those people. I could use this power, I knew that. I could do anything I wanted into the world, send it into chaos or into perpetual peace. That latter side also told me that the world couldn't – shouldn't – stay peaceful. To have a strong country, a country must have had wars to bring the country together. That way, a ruler could better keep the people together and ensure the country's safety. The peoples of a recent war would flock to the army if they knew the pains of war. They would not let it happen again.  
  
Human instinct is to fight or flight. Though I knew this would seem like a cowardly flight away from a death I committed, I would return with the best news any planet could receive: that is attackers were dead, and I had returned. They would look upon me with respect. They would look upon me with adoration. And I needed that – I never got it in the beginning, but now once I had tasted it, it was delicious.  
  
I killed the Instructor.  
  
He told me this as he sat, beaten, on the ground, Garu over him like a menace. My brother's best friend flickered with indecision; my attention was wavering, poised before killing him or not. It was my destiny, to use everyone before me. They paved the road and I kicked them away. This was the little bit of information I kept from the Instructor. He taught me guilelessly, teaching me how to use my EX. Never had he done anything wrong, anything to suggest I might have to kill him in the end. However, there I was, in control of Garu's mind, my sword over his head, and then in a jolt the Instructor realized it was not Garu who was trying to kill him, but ME. And even at that time, he told me the singlemost important piece of information he could ever tell me: that my brother was ALIVE, and that he was somewhere out in space.  
  
I pressed my hand to the door and it opened slowly, as if recognizing an old friend. Once I stepped inside and the liquid had pressed over my head, I could see the vague form of the Instructor hovering. Loyalty only brought their demise when it was in my hands. Oh, Instructor, you should have stayed away from me. You knew my true wants, the want to become someone else, someone different. All this was to become the best I could be, unlike any other. I will be different when I come back, Instructor – I will have destroyed the Victims. The people will treat me carefully then. The people will not know I am a murderer. They will think I was acting on your last will, Instructor, to go to the Victim world and kill them all. They will think I am an angelic avenger, killing the one who killed my teacher.  
  
How mislead. But I will encourage those stories. I will be different when I come back, Instructor. Remain here with me and you shall see.  
  
With that, I opened the airlocks above me by using the connection the Reneighd Klein had with the computer. I sailed out. Watch me, G.O.A. Watch me as I accomplish what no one else has. I have found where the Victims are. The final assault will not be from them, but from a one-man army, self-employed to save them all.  
  
I will make them enter Heaven. With a wicked smirk, salvation is coming, monsters.  
  
To my right, there was a flicker of movement. Orange-colored, it reflected off of the sun. I hesitated. In that hesitation, he saw me. It was Rio. I searched my mind and came up with an answer: he must have woken up while Garu and the Instructor were fighting. He called out to me, and I forced myself to turn. I could flee, right now, and leave him. He wouldn't understand now, but when I came back he would understand why I left. He would truly love me as a brother then. I would keep the knowledge that I was the one who had put him into a coma safely in my mind. I sighed. He would never know. We could be brothers after this.  
  
A small voice breathed relief. I would not have to use anyone purposefully after this. All I had to do was live, and that was easy. The Instructor would have his wish fulfilled. That would be enough, and then I wouldn't have to fight or do anything anymore. I crushed that little voice.  
  
Who could say I didn't enjoy using minds the way I did? I used them to my benefit because I could. And if that gave me an unfair advantage over other people, then that was the way it was. God must have sent me this gift.  
  
"Erts?", Rio called. "Erts, what are you doing out here?"  
  
I couldn't reply. Suddenly my throat was stuck for some reason. I just couldn't, couldn't bring myself to say anything. Maybe because the reply I was going to give him was a lie.  
  
"They're telling me that you don't have authorized permission to open up the hatch and airlocks. That's just stupid, Erts. I mean, where are you going to go? You can't really sell this to the Victims, you know. They wouldn't fit in it! Too big and creepy-looking".  
  
I could feel my throat get tighter with every nonchalant comment he said. Brother, don't say anything more or I think I will cry. When I return I might be a different person, Rio. You might not like me anymore. I could pretend that I'm still Erts, but I don't want to. But if I let you see me as I am now, you would fear me. And that's not what I want, Rio. I want an equal.  
  
What was I thinking? I couldn't have an equal. I was to be the top, unrivaled.  
  
And yet, indecision clouded my thoughts. That wasn't good – I was to have a clear mind if I had to pilot the Reneighd Klein, the Telepath's Goddess. Reaching out, I stroked Rio's mind softly and he shuddered under my touch like a petted cat. Rio, Rio, I said to him. Forgive me.  
  
I was to have no equals. Indecision is not a good factor to have in battle, especially when it's a battle against emotions. I was losing badly. I had to ensure victory before this went too far and I wasn't able to walk away.  
  
Still stroking his mind, I reached out physically with Reneighd Klein's hands. Wrapping them around the base of Agui Keimeia's neck, I felt my fingers indent into his neck. Slowly, suffocatingly, I tightened my hands around the cord that kept a human alive. I could hear the crunch of metal under the the Reneighd Klein's fingers. I could feel the scrape of metal as the chin suddenly dipped down. Under my touch suddenly Rio's mind frantically panicked, then went absolutely still. Like the butterfly under the foot, I left him lying there.  
  
I didn't stop until the Agui Keimeia's head was completely severed from its body. Then I threw him as hard as I could against G.O.A. That would ensure Rio was dead. When an enemy came my way, I made sure to beat him into the ground so hard he wouldn't get up. That was my way. And though Rio was no enemy, I had gotten too close to him.  
  
I killed him before he started affecting me even more. I myself knew the power of emotions. I could influence a mind with them, stimulate anger so a person will attack another person. I could control the whole of G.O.A. if I wanted to, for a short time. I was powerful. I didn't want to be stopped by my clumsy, two-left-footed brother.  
  
Vaguely, I could hear Phil's screams over the comm. link. I turned my mind back to the training center where my brother and I were first sent to. How distant those memories seemed to me now; just vague impressions. If my brother Ernest were here, he would have remembered everything. He had a photographic memory, he did – and he would know just what the shuttle looked like when we arrived, what our cousin who died looked like. All I could remember was a hand, a hand familiar, clutching mine. My brother, Ernest.  
  
He was dangerous too. When I saw him, I vowed I would stay in check of my emotions. What happened to us before, that genuine affection between brother and brother, would be gone by then. I would forget it. I would kill him. He was truly an enemy, and deserved what Rio got because he convinced me to become this top, to feel this anger and this hate and this fear of all people. It made me strong and weak to a heavy degree. It was different, but victory tasted good.  
  
I could hear Leena shouting and Tune crying out to not do anything, then the harsh voice of Gareas, telling her that he wasn't doing this for Erts, who had evidently gone crazy. I could almost see them. I could almost smile at their despair. You won't despair when I come back, G.O.A. I'll come back as a hero, and then you won't have any convictions against me. I'll do what you trained more than ten thousand young boys to do and none succeeded in doing. And Zion will love me and you won't have any say in it.  
  
I waited patiently for Gareas to step inside of the Eeva Leena and take off. I forced indecision in his mind, but to my surprised it was blocked. I was startled; my mind had evidently changed so much he didn't mistake it for Ernest's anymore. Still, my indecision made him hesitate for a moment, and I turned his eyes to the dreaded figure of the Agui Keimeia, sprawled in gleefully obscure position against the glass of the windows. I knew he could see it.  
  
I didn't have to wait for his decision. I knew he would follow me. I just had to make sure he saw the few twisted, innocent bodies that floated beside the Agui Keimeia from the shattered glass. Then I left. I left if all behind.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's notes:  
  
I'll let YOU be the judge: you want Erts guilty or not? One way or the other it's not clear even to me. If you want to believe that Garu's the one who killed Azuma IN HIS OWN RIGHT MIND, than do so. If you want Erts to be guilty, then so be it. I don't think I'm going to make this decision for you...at least for now. I might change that later.  
  
Now I'm sad. I just killed a really, really good character. You know, I might write a prequel of sorts to this, from Azuma's POV. Yes, that would be very interesting...some nostalgia thrown in, hmm...  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	14. Cards and Funny Cards

Ch.14: Life's Price  
  
In my mind there was only the desire to run. I didn't want to be stuck with this job. But orders were orders, even when my repairer was too far away to reach me and I could bail out right now and live with Victims for the rest of my life.  
  
Ah, let's review that little chapter, shall we? First, I was born on a cheap colony, then I came and was taught by a cheap Instructor who later I killed with a cheaply fired shot, and in between I lost a friend to a cheap trick that Victims pulled, then fell prey to a cheap trick again myself as they brought him back to life. My life was CHEAP. That was all there was to it. But it had some priceless moments as well. If I tried to remember, I could remember a school play where I threw a cream pie at my rival in school. If I tried to remember, I could remember the first time I ever saw Ernest smile. He was talking with Erts, and he had that soft smile on his face that could disappear like a phantom. If I could remember, I could recall Ernest angry, standing over me while I held my reddened jaw. That was priceless too; I had managed to do something that on one else in the world had ever done, and that was make Ernest so angry he fought.  
  
Life made you pay prices. It put a bunch of cards in front of you and said, "Pick one". If you picked a good card that didn't have much on it, he would laugh and throw it away. "Pick another", he'd say, and then this would continue until you picked the card in the stack that was the most horrible. Then he'd give one final laugh, and you'd have the worst thing you could ever get. Sometimes it would take your pride. Sometimes it would eat your conscience and make you guilty for some crimes. Sometimes it would leave you broke. Sometimes it would kill you.  
  
You could haggle for it sometimes. Some people put up a smiling façade and pretended nothing happened when it slowly ate them inside out. Sometimes people managed to escape it by several hairs. Sometimes Life let them take a lesser card. But no one escaped it in the end. It was the last card Life could play for you. It was Death, and then Death would take over and start playing cards for you. In hell, I guess. I had always doubted there being a Heaven. Why would there be a Heaven for us? We were saving mankind's butts, but we were killing off Victims. Who was to say they weren't the same as us? THEY had their wives and their children, their fields and their homes, just like we did. We didn't UNDERSTAND. We called ourselves compassionate, but we were the most selfish of all races. We have developed civilization, invented our instruments of trade, flew to other places and other galaxies, and still we haven't learned. We had become a great empire, spanning space from end to end, but little by little it was taken over by the Victims. We watched in disbelief as these creatures hoarded our planets, until we were left with one last star. And all the time we were thinking, "They are so evil, they are so cruel." We called them monsters when WE, OURSELVES, had done the same a long time ago to other alien races, other alien life forms.  
  
Humans were born selfish. Always. I was being selfish right now, I decided, because I was sure as hell getting Ernest off of Hestia before Erts killed him. I was being selfish because I had to have Ernest by my side. If I didn't have him, I wouldn't be here now, would I? I would go there, save him, and leave Erts to his little mad dance. I was doing this not for Ernest's sake, but for mine – it was like a drug. I couldn't function without him.  
  
On that thought, the boosters on my back seemed to erupt flames. I felt a stab of pain; there was no repairer to monitor the pain away from me this time. Still, I was traveling in space, at the same rate that I had been accelerating. I couldn't be going faster. I waited for a little while, then took shut my eyes and tried to imagine if Ernest were all right.  
  
I tried to imagine what I would do if he wasn't all right.  
  
He had stopped me, once. "You retreat too", he said, and he lied to me. He died that day. But before that Life had cheated me Death – I had gotten too close to the Victim and begun a physical fight. No guns here. And after that he had punched me so hard my senses rung with surprise and pain. I never knew before that that Ernest had even ever thought of hurting anyone except for Victims. If he were here, I think I would…exist, I guess. Go on living. I could survive without him, couldn't I?  
  
And then came the REALLY ludicrous idea: that I would forget him.  
  
HA! When would that happen? When humans turn into monsters and Victims turn into angels! I froze at that comment. Oh yes, of course. That's already happened. Ernest…I knew Ernest wouldn't want me to die. He tried to save my life, once, and died for it, of course. He wouldn't want me to dwell on it. Hell, even his coffin was sent out into space so we wouldn't have a tombstone to visit and lament over! It was all very ironic, though, but deaths never lasted long in human minds.  
  
Think of it as Ernest's last wish. He goes into battle without regret, remember? He goes into battle knowing that he won't return. And when that happens, you're not supposed to cry over it. You're supposed to just let it go. He died, you survived. And that was Life's price.  
  
I know there would never be an Elixir of Life, ever. No Fountain of Youth crap, no Sorcerer's Stone nonsense, no Holy Grail. The price to Life was easy: Death. No one could avoid it. People were just so selfishly stupid sometimes, wanting something that would make them live forever. I bet old time rulers did that, thinking that they would be doing a country GOOD if they lived forever and ruled forever. That would have been a horrible rule. I wondered how long that ruler could remain in power without driving himself insane after a few wars.  
  
Life has a funny way of choosing who died, though. The people with the best karma, like Ernest, who tried to help everyone around him, died sooner. And the dastardly ones, the ones who never had a decent bone in their bodies, survived to kill and kill again. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. But though I was never one for that karma stuff, I did NOT want Ernest to go beddy-bye again. He deserved to LIVE. He had so much to live FOR. He had G.O.A. (which seemed only to serve GOOD memories, not BAD ones), he had his brother Erts (maybe he could 'cure' Erts of whatever madness had seized him?), and he had me. Selfish, I know, but I was the most important aspect in his life. And I was proud of it.  
  
Ah. There. Hello, Hestia, we meet again. I smiled wryly, and my eyes became tortured. The world was beginning to break. When a planet had revolved enough times, it would break apart, especially if its shape and size had been altered from a perfect sphere. It looked as if Erts had only hastened that process. And as I neared the planet, I could see the trail he left. He had gone through half a planet's population in half a minute. It was amazing to see so many he could behead at one time. It was horrible to see the destruction.  
  
Some of the Victims had died in their angel forms. Some were sprawled out farther, fifty feet away, in half transformation. I could only guess that they had tried to start a formation to counterattack, but it hadn't worked. And further on, I heard several moans of random, insane mutterings. Evidently Erts had done more than destroy them physically, but mentally as well. I closed my eyes; Ernest wasn't like this. The older brother had mercy. Erts beat his enemy into the ground so hard he would never, ever stand up to fight him again.  
  
And then, I remembered that I had to find Ernest. I wondered how I could find him, as I usually just reached out for him, and he was there. Ernest?, I tried to say, and found no reply. I tried to think of his face, his eyes, his hair. What components made up the personality of "Ernest": that damnable compassion, the kind look, the glances that tell you that your problems are constantly on his mind and that he would do anything to help you. And to my relief, I felt the crackle of static, and then that familiar settling in the back of my mind as Ernest made his presence known.  
  
I tensed. He seemed strained.  
  
Sa, don't worry about me, Garu.  
  
I frowned both physically and mentally. That sounded suspiciously like a lie. Where are you?  
  
From his reply I knew something was wrong. Nowhere, Garu. Now that didn't just sound like a lie; I could tell it WAS a lie. I stumbled a half-dozen steps in each direction. Answer my question, Ernest, I pressed.  
  
I felt the connection strain, but I kept my fingers tight on it. After a moment he said, The next ridge over. In the distance.  
  
Relief flooded me. At least that had not been the END of the connection, which would have meant that…I couldn't think of that now. Not when I was so close. Not when Ernest was still alive and I could save him. He had his mentality; all he needed was me to come and get him. All he needed was for me to come and get him. I would see him again. I could barely prepare myself for such an entrance. Though I was sure Ernest wouldn't mind if my hair wasn't in place or my lipstick wasn't on (ha, ha. That was OBVIOUSLY a girl's thing), I found myself running to the ridge instead of just calmly walking. Perhaps it was the spur of the moment, the thought that I would see him so, so soon. Seconds could tick like hours, minutes like days and all that. It sounded corny, but in a situation like this, I couldn't but feel a bit worried. We WERE talking about a psycho little brother here.  
  
I stopped over the ridge. Could you say I was happy? Well, I was. I was relieved immensely by then. Ernest remained a presence in my mind, not saying anything, but a warmth filtered through me. I felt like I was a candidate again, running the halls with Ernest, complaining about how running had nothing to do with piloting a Goddess. I could hear Ernest laughing and telling me that it was because they wanted their pilots to be in shape when they took the position. I could feel his mind when I clasped his hand and told him he was my friend, my best friend. I could feel his happiness and knew when he was angry. I could see his smile, the way when he came around the corner his face would be a smile, glad to see me. I could see him now, on the ground, his eyes looking up towards me, giving one last shuddering halt of breath, and then going dead.  
  
The presence faded from my mind, slipping away like a sudden downpour. In my mind's eye I could see his form, becoming jelly and slipping down a gutter. I could reach all I wanted, but I wouldn't touch anything but wishes that slipped from my grasp, all the "what-ifs" of Life. I knew there was nothing I could do to save him now. I was suddenly guilty, every finger pointed at me, telling me I was guilty. I didn't save him when he saved me. Could it be said it was a debt I left unpaid?  
  
I felt incapable of anything. All I needed was a push back into life. But I didn't want to return to life when I had died.  
  
All I needed was that one push. And it came in the form of a little boy, no more than fourteen, the brother of the one I loved the most, his murderer, his ultimate child. I knew now that Erts had done what all little brothers do: imitate their older siblings. Erts had become what Ernest had been, one of the top candidates. And because of this, he grew stronger, more independent. In time, the time I had spent away from G.O.A., he had begun to realize something, that his EX could be used to better himself and his own position. It was greed, it was the corruption of power, but no one could escape that. Not even Ernest, now. All I had to do was look at his form on the ground and wonder how it could backfire on him like that.  
  
"Are you looking at me?", that sweet voice said softly in my comm. link. "Aren't you angry, Garu? I have killed the one you have loved the most, haven't I? Why don't you come and get me now, Garu, if you love him so much. I promise vengeance will be sweet for you."  
  
I couldn't help but snap back, "And you want to die?"  
  
I could almost picture his sweet, deceiving smile. "Of course not. There wouldn't be any purpose in me alive in the first place if I wanted to die now. All I have done would have gone down the drain. And that would such a shame, Garu."  
  
"You killed them both. Rio and Ernest." My voice came out to be a hiss. I could see his voice now, the face of a serpent, the face of something I had not seen before: hate. All this time Ernest had been a peaceful soul, his brother Erts always beside him, knowing any moment that they could both die in battle. I knew that once upon a time, their love was genuine. It started after Ernest left. I could only guess how much Ernest had to do to keep his brother's EX in check, to make sure he didn't do something to alter a person's mind during battle and cause their death so he could assume the position. But Life played a funny card this time, a fickle card called Fate. And even though it wasn't intentional, Ernest died, came back to life, and died again. All for the same reason, too: for love. For the purest love that could ever be found.  
  
Anger surged up at me. Oddly, it didn't overwhelm my senses like it usually did, but bubble slowly, stirring languidly. I was keeping my anger in check. Rein it, and force it out when you fight came Ernest's voice in my mind. There's no use fighting your own men when there is an enemy out there.  
  
Who was my enemy? Victim. Who was dead? Ernest. Why? Erts. That made Erts my enemy, right? Victim or not did not matter, I realized. What mattered was mentality.  
  
I screamed into battle. All at once the blood rushed to my head, clearing my thoughts except for that emotion pure like love. Anger cleared my head, guiding my hands like Ernest once had, and I felt my marks clear and precise. I wasn't stumbling, I wasn't getting injured. My actions and my thoughts were clearer, more transparent than ever. I found I could anticipate every move, keep my guard from all ways, channeling the anger to my hands, the Eeva Leena's hands. Clear, clear, I could see the distance in front of me. And it was this anger, this pure unaltered anger that gave way to the last of my battles, the last of my will to fight, and the last of my hate. Revenge was not sweet. It was torture.  
  
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Author's note:  
  
So, well, that was a depressing chapter. I apologize if some of the comments were a little random...I wasn't really paying much attention to what I was writing, just kinda putting everything down. As for the anger clearing his head...hehe, it's happened to me before. So instead of making Garu all angry and doing a bunch of stupid things, I made him actually make sense. Like Rio being smart, that kinda thing. Two more chapters, and this story will be history...  
  
Andrea Weiling 


	15. Nice Things

Just a little something: this chapter is from the 'Erts within'. Think of it as Erts' bright, kind side, but not really, because Erts is all the same person.  
  
Ch.15: Nice Things  
  
I didn't understand. What was I doing here? Before me there seemed to be endless lines of Victim, all waiting to go against me, and yet my actions were mechanical. In a sudden surge of emotion I heard myself laugh, a devilish, mocking laugh that suited a villain perfectly. A villain? When did I become a bad guy?  
  
I panicked when I realized I couldn't do anything. It was like I had been put into permanent autopilot and was the pilot would couldn't control the aircraft. I could only watch, and observe. I trembled and felt weak; where was my ever-present EX, the one I had mastered? I couldn't do anything, couldn't reach out mentally, couldn't touch mindsets or influence thoughts. I felt very vulnerable. I felt like I was frozen, and I didn't like it.  
  
I felt a hysterical laugh bubbling inside of me, and I screamed in enjoyment as it came out in a torrent of morbid fascination. The Victims, I thought. The Victims were angels. They had beautiful white wings. A voice told me they should be ripped off, destroyed completely. I was doing the right thing, wasn't I? I was getting rid of the enemy that had plagued Zion for so long. I didn't care if it was against the Bible or some other godforsaken holy book that I didn't believe in, just as long as my sword kept swinging and my madness keep building. All around me came the screams of the dead and dying, and I laughed and laughed and laughed in triumph. I had done what no one else had done! Never before had one man defeated an army.  
  
I continued, and remembered I had a brother called Ernest. Ha! My fool of a brother gave me these clothes to wear, this position to take, this power to harness and control. Ah, yes, this control was awesome and truly mine to cast over others like a magical fishing net that trapped all. I was the most powerful. I could tighten the strings on necks and break them apart. I could spare people. Suddenly I realized that as a human and as a pilot of the Reneighd Klein I could do a lot. I could use minimal power and take a life and get away with it. I could take lives and give them. This was the power of humanity! I had discovered what humanities' power had become. Hands, hands, they could reach out and strangle Fate. I could do anything I wanted with it, twist and shape it to my wanting. And through my mind, sparks filtered and died in a net of dreams. I knew what I wanted and why I wanted it, but felt that past die and trail along behind me like a bloody man behind a truck. Sometimes it bumped up and down and made me look back on it, but now I wouldn't look back. It was too much, too much for me to handle.  
  
For a moment I had forgotten just what I had done. And then bile rose in my throat at the thought of two deaths. My mind screamed, What were you THINKING?, and even as I landed on this planet so like Zion, there was a pull, a pull that led me in a direction. If you do this you'll be saved, it told me, and I started to follow that voice. It led me over a ridge and to a building. There was one person standing there, in front of the door, and I recognized him. My heart cried out to him, Brother, brother, but he seemed not to hear me. Nor did I seem to let that message go, as if something was holding it back, as if part of me didn't want to tell my brother I was here.  
  
The Reneighd Klein began to glow, faintly. I could see it, and for a moment I wondered what had triggered it. Then I heard that voice again, the voice of a woman, the voice of the Goddess. Kill him, she said softly, and she coaxed my arm up and over to him even as he began to speak words I couldn't hear. I tried to strain my ears. Brother, brother, what are you saying? You are saying horrible things, brother, that you don't love me, that I have changed into a monster. Guilt overrode me, and I found my head clutched in my hands, my mind frozen. I trusted, you brother, and in the deepest of my heart I somehow know that I still do. You are the first I ever trusted, and you taught me how important it was to trust you. And yet even as I broke that trust I knew you would forgive me, brother. Why are you saying that my actions are wrong, brother? You say I have killed Rioroute. Yes, brother, I did, but that was to save him from me. He would never find pain, that way. The Instructor was just like you, brother. He didn't understand until the last moment that I was just going to kill him anyway once I had obtained everything he had to teach. An irking spark of annoyance lit in me. My fingers curled around his diminutive form.  
  
It was then I noticed them. Wings, unfurling from his back. He soared high above me, like the trust I had broken. He was taking it away! I worked for this. Aren't you proud of me, brother? I have become the pilot of the Reneighd Klein, I have mastered my EX reactions, I have destroyed the enemy of Zion. Brother, why don't you say nice things? I came here for you, brother. I want to grant you mercy. Don't you see, brother? If I kill you, then everything will be all right. You will be gone from me, and I will have fulfilled my promise to become the best pilot I could be. And I won't have you haunting around me forever, Ernest, because your death, like Rio's, will be gone from my mind soon.  
  
Listen, my dear brother. I am granting you a favor. Ask anything, brother.  
  
And then I hear you, in my mind. You swirl with colors in my mind, and you are telling me something. Green, a soft sea green. That is what you are showing me. But what do you mean? The picture of an earring, then slowly, slowly, the head turns, and there is Gareas. Ah, of course. You want me to spare him, don't you? Of course, he's the person you trust the most, the person you would die for a million times over.  
  
I think about it for a moment. Then I reach up and crush you in my fist, like a fly. And I laugh as I say, "No can do, brother!". You scream and writhe against my fingers, but they are metal, brother. You are the bird, and I the cage. You will never escape my grasp, brother. You will disappear from my memory forever when I return. And I will leave out that you were ever here, alive on this pretty planet. I will say you died when you died as a HUMAN. Victims aren't human, brother. I don't know why you ever chose to come back as one to haunt me as one of those monsters.  
  
What is this? Thoughts of warmth fill your head. And as I drop you and crouch to watch, a figure appears over the horizon, white and blue. You smile, brother, that smile that you used to give to me. It's that softened look that you get when I say I worry about you in battle, that I'm scared you might never come back. In those days we were brothers, but now you've replaced me. Gareas is everything to you, brother, so there's no need for me. That's not something nice, drifting away like we did. It's all your fault, brother, that you gave me this task and made me complete it. Even after death you haunted me. I guess it's all a wish, then, that you would leave me alone. You'll probably haunt me even past death when I go to Heaven or Hell, long past when Rio and the Instructor have faded from my mind.  
  
I couldn't help it, brother. I smiled when your eyes died and I felt Gareas' mind give a shuddering little breath, trying to suck in everything at once. You're dead, brother, and there's nothing you can do about it. But even now, I can see your eyes are looking at me. But I won't wait to make your memory suffer. You'll have killed Gareas, in a way, however indirectly. I'll hurt you brother, and maybe you'll leave me alone. I talked with Gareas, for a moment, my voice sweet and sugary, provoking that anger. But he has learned from you, brother: his anger doesn't explode, it simmers like a thick soup in a cauldron, waiting, waiting to be used. Vengeance, brother. That is what this is all about. I'm getting back at you, brother, by killing the one you love the most. You'll have caused his death, brother! I tilted my head back and laughed.  
  
Gareas, so naïve. He doesn't realize that this is YOUR fault, brother. Even now when I can't defend myself against him anymore, I can hear his laugh, and I can hear you laugh. It's all backfiring on me, brother. I did you a favor, brother, because by killing you I could do two things, and that was to forget you and make you disappear so that you wouldn't suffer from my hate anymore. I know it hurt you, brother. Right? You couldn't have been so forgiving that you still hated me for killing me, right? It was a mercy, brother! You can't be angry at me for that!  
  
And yet, I feel your hands around my neck like Reneighd Klein's fingers around Agui Keimeia's neck. I can hear you shouts, your yells of "You killed him! You killed him!". Who, who did I kill, Ernest? Panic takes me under its surface. Answer me, brother! You kept things from me, knowing that I would become more power than you. Was it because you wanted to keep that power for yourself or was it because you were afraid of what I might do with it? Brother, brother, answer me! It's not nice that you kept things from me.  
  
I remember saying that same thing to you, a long time ago. We were just kids back then. Mother told you to borrow my laptop because yours was in the repair shop. I can remember that yours was faster than mine by several lightspeeds, which meant you could download things faster. When I said no, Mother said, "That's not nice." But then you turned to her and said, "I don't need to, Mother. His computer isn't nice." I could remember feeling puzzled about why you said that, and why Mother got angry at you for saying that. Now I know. Brother, when did we start splitting apart?  
  
I can't breathe, brother.  
  
Help me, brother.  
  
I know what I did wasn't nice, but can't you forgive me this once? I'll even spare Gareas for you. I promise. But your fingers just get tighter around my neck. I'm starting to cry, brother. Why is that? Who am I crying for? Is it for you? Is it for myself? Is it for Gareas?  
  
I don't understand, brother. I thought it was all right. After all, humans were given this power to take lives or leave them. Why is such a crime to kill someone, brother? I don't understand. Tell me, brother! It isn't nice to keep things from me! You were always older, you always knew things, but some things you never told me! I don't like you for that, brother! It's not nice because I trusted you! What's wrong with you, brother? WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?  
  
I feel my back scratch into a nearby wall, then my legs crumple under me. No, it wasn't you who betrayed you or you betrayed me. We're even, brother, aren't we? You kept something from me and I didn't save you. There. Even. So why do you keep hurting me? Brother, I trusted you and I still do. Your memory follows me around because I can see you in the walls of this place, this sweet air, the grass over there, the blue sky. Brother, you were beautiful. And now I realize that I'm not that way, am I? You were not a monster, nor were any of the Victims. We were all angels one day, brother. They had their planet to protect too, their families and their lives. I wonder how I could have overlooked that. I thought Victims were just things that came to us, trying to find more land, but how could this be if their planet is just as beautiful as ours? I was mistaken brother. Now, please stop hurting me. Your hands are still around my neck, still choking my life out. Please stop, brother.  
  
Brother, I loved you. I still do, brother. Please let go.  
  
And then I fell backwards and the grip loosened. Gone, gone. Where was I going? I wasn't sure. But I knew it wasn't to G.O.A. If I had tried to open my eyes, I don't think I would've had any energy to do so. My eyelids are so heavy, brother. It's getting dark, brother. I think I'm dead, brother.  
  
I don't care, though. I get it now. The reason I couldn't forget you was because I loved you the whole time. Please let go, brother. It's not nice to dwell in the past. There, that's nice, brother. I always liked music. This is some of music that the Victims used to sing, isn't it? Soulful, without words, without meanings, but still beautiful. Brother, you sing so well. That's a nice thing to say, right? I'm sorry brother, I guess I wasn't very nice, was I? But I'm still only your little brother, right? You don't mind if I sit here and listen, do you? I see you smile and hear you say okay. I sit down, crosslegged, and close my eyes. You start singing again. Oh, brother, that's very nice. A very nice thing. 


	16. Shiva

Ch.16:  Shiva  
  
She's calling me.  I can hear her, all the time.  Even when I'm not in battle, even when I'm on my bed and I'm just listening to silence, she whispers to me.  I think humanity has got it all wrong, you know?  They think that when you go out and kill a bad guy, they should reward you.  But that's not being fair, is it?  What if you were the guy that was killed? That's what she's saying to me.  I could spare every last Victim I had killed if I had wanted to, but always, always I don't because then people would hate me.  Humans are naturally selfish as well - I only kill living beings because I don't want people to hate me.   
  
There.  She tells me again that I can't stop, I can't stop.  It's that rush, the rush of battle, the rush of death, and I can't stop doing it. Once a killer, always a killer.  It doesn't matter if my enemy is the ugliest inside or outside, it just matters that they live.  Oh yeah, that's right – I killed them. Never mind, then.  
  
There's always a voice that tells me I can stop.  It's actually quite easy for a person mad in battle to stop, just if he knows how to follow that voice.  But I don't.  I don't hesitate to cut down everything in  
  
my path.  And that's what makes me a killer.  Even if you don't kill anyone, it's all the same - it's all hurting, it's all suffering.  And when a person says, "That's some pretty good karma you get from piloting that Ingrid and making sure those Victims don't get to Zion", I find I don't care.  It's killing.  It's horrible.  I guess my reply to that would be, "So what?"  
  
I'll see you in Hell, Ernest.  I'll be there soon, don't you worry.  
  
I always wonder who that voice is.  It kind of figures, though, after thinking about it.  It's my Goddess, the vessel I pilot, the machine that I have labored so hard on to retain.  She's always there, speaking to me.  And once you become friends with something, it starts to influence you. Poison you, little by little, until she takes my hands in hers and it's not me who's killing anymore, but her.  She's done this to all the pilots before her, I know.  The only reason that she keeps the pilot alive inside of her is because a new pilot has to be broken in to her voice, trained to hear her voice in the back of their heads, telling them what to do, and making them do it without fully realizing what they had just done.  After a little while a pilot gets used to being guided along by this little invisible voice. After a little while, they can't fight it anymore.  It has become a deep part of them, and even though that makes it easier to pilot, it doesn't make  
  
it easier to live.  
  
The planet beneath me breathed, took a breath, suddenly.  It shifted under my feet, tossing her hair into the clouds.  Her voice wasn't clear like water anymore, like when I had been here last.  It was sad, resigned, knowing that she would die soon.  The last star of her kind.  I pitied her; she had truly loved her inhabitants, given them all she could give.  
  
She sighed again, full of melancholy meaning.  Beautiful Hestia, lend me the last of your strength.  
  
For a moment I wondered just what I was doing.  Here I was, dead Victims all within fifty feet of me, and I was fighting still.  Within myself, I wished I could find Erts, the one before, the innocent one before the capture of power.  But even as I thought that, Ernest came to mind, and I leaned my head wearily on the shoulder of that memory.  Ernest, you knew, all the time, didn't you, that Erts would become like this.  He wouldn't know what was right and what was wrong anymore, would he?  And Ernest didn't  
  
need to tell me what to do - I knew it.  
  
Reneighd Klein stood in front of me.  She had stopped, and her hands lay limp at her sides.  Ernest, forgive me.  Hestia, forgive me.  This will be another death to mar you surface.  With the Eeva Leena, I grasped the neck of the Reneighd Klein and held it aloft.  Inside, Erts didn't move.  I wondered what he was thinking.  Wasn't it he who had told me revenge would be sweet?  
  
I suddenly understood.  Erts didn't want revenge from me - he wanted me to take my revenge on him.  Erts wanted to die.  My hand trembled, and threatened to let go.  I steadied it, and as I did I could hear his voice asif he were speaking in my ear.  This wasn't the harshness I had detected in Erts talking when I had lifted off G.O.A., this was the soft, scared voice of the boy I thought had died in him.  
  
"Brother", he was calling.  "Brother, please stop."  
  
I threw him into the cliff.  I couldn't hear anymore.  I covered up my ears and tried to make sense of my surroundings.  But I couldn't.  Was Erts lying?  If he wasn't, then why was he here?  Why had he killed so many living, humane being if he still loved and trusted the one he called brother?  If he was still the innocent boy I thought I knew from long ago, why was I here?  WHAT WAS I DOING HERE?  
  
The voice spoke harshly in my ear, Get up, kill him.  Finish him.  I hesitated, and It continued.  He murdered the one you love the most.  You must kill him.  
  
The Eeva Leena's hands faltered for a moment, then raised up when I raised mine.  Slowly, I crept forward to the Reneighd Klein, still slumped against the cliff.  Erts wasn't talking anymore.  If he had been I might have stopped.  I stopped many times, my wits failing me.  I couldn't kill him.  I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't.  This voice, lose your power over me!  I don't want to hear you anymore! My hands lift him up again by his neck, in the same position.  My fingers find the exact same indent marks in the expensive, space-made metal. A mold, I thought.  A Goddess pilot mold that candidates were perfected to  
  
fill.  
  
And slowly I squeezed.  
  
As I did I could feel my insides crumbling to dust.  My internal organs seemed to melt into goo, seemed to bubble and dry up in the sun.  My vision became blurry as I sobbed.  Erts was talking louder and fast now, words on how he wanted me to let go and something about not letting Ernest use some kind of computer and Ernest telling him he didn't want to use the stupid computer and that it wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it.  I got it now – being a candidate, going through all those studies and classes - it was never, ever, worth it.  We had to take lives.  That was a pilot's job.  And in the end guilt would eat you up whole and you would die.  Being a pilot was to dig your own grave.  
  
I barked out a bitter laugh.  I had no one to blame for that except myself.  
  
My fingers gave a little jerk and there came a crack from the Reneighd Klein's neck.  There, you Stupid Voice.  Are you happy now?  I just killed another person.  And this time it wasn't even a Victim, it was a human.  It was Ernest's little brother.  It doesn't matter if he was crazy in the end, it doesn't matter if his innocent, young self was corrupted and he was mad with grief and power.  It matters that he was human, that he was a living, breathing person, and I had taken his life.  
  
I suddenly wanted Ernest.  In times of strife he was always there, beside me.  I could lean my head on his shoulder and I could feel the comfort and warmth as it came in.  His thoughts were flowing, smooth and clear like water, like my anger.  But I wasn't angry now.  I was tired.   
  
Let me go, Voice.  Yes, I'm talking to you, Goddess of Destruction. Let me go.  I'm tired.  I can't serve your purpose anymore.  
  
And with that, I stumbled forward numbly a few steps.  With a strength that bellied my weariness, I palmed the cockpit door open.  Before I could stop myself, I tumbled onto the grass, completely spent, completely beaten. Ernest, Ernest, where are you?  I dragged myself across the grass, creeping inch by creeping inch and put my arm over Ernest.  Oh, my friend, my brother, my lover, your eyes are so dead, I am so tired, won't you help me?  Then I lay my head on his shoulder, just like before, and tried to imagine bright, white wings before I fell asleep. And even as my eyes dimmed and a desert filled my mouth and Life cackled and turned my last card around, I cursed the Goddess for all she had taken from me.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \  
  
Author's note:  
  
FINISHED!!!!  Finally.  I got this in, typed up at school today! Thank god, not I don't have to worry about it over the weekend.  Well, that's the end - as I said, if you want an epilogue, please say so.  And please understand - um, Garu IS dead here.  He "fell asleep", realize...*sighs* another death.  I guess I can't really be happy until I've killed several people.  
  
Andrea Weiling 


End file.
